


These Things Take Time

by hounds_of_love



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LET EPONINE SAY FUCK, M/M, it's somehow become a coffee shop au AND a flower shop au, not gonna lie i'm probs gonna delete this, she deserves it ok, this is a wip ok I just wanna get the first chap out there to motivate me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hounds_of_love/pseuds/hounds_of_love
Summary: Grantaire’s pen stilled and the front legs of his chair slammed down to the floor. He gave a short scoffing laugh.“My, my! Montparnasse is back? This should be fun!”-----Montparnasse mysteriously vanished from Eponine and Grantaire’s lives a few years ago. And now he’s back just as mysteriously, and he’s different. So Eponine grudgingly decides that introducing him to Les Amis might help him reacclimatise. She never said it was her best idea.





	1. blue skies are coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my first fanfic so please be gentle and please leave comments!  
> also the song from the chapter title is Blue Skies are Coming by Noah and the Whale! it's lovely!  
> also i might change the name of the fic at some point if i find something better!

A clock ticked loudly on the wall as Grantaire tried to concentrate on his drawing. Joly and Bossuet were his models. They pretended that they didn’t know but he could see them flick glances his way every so often, and they were trying to move their mouths as little as possible when they talked. They had been there for a quarter of an hour waiting for everyone to turn up to their Tuesday meeting. This was the day that they discussed important things, rather than the Friday one, where they met up just to chat and drink and maybe play karaoke. Unlike Tuesday meetings, which seemed to drag, Friday nights were the best.  
Cosette always took hazy pictures on her polaroid and made copies for everyone who wanted them. He liked the one of him and Bahorel on a table singing SOS - the Mamma Mia version. He’d been Pierce Brosnan, of course, because no one could top Baz’s Meryl Streep impression. That photo was beautifully alive. Cosette had seen the way he looked at it and gave him the original version. It was pinned up by his desk in his room, with a version next to it that he’d painted.   
So many photos of Les Amis littered his wall. There was Enjolras gesticulating wildly at a rally, and another of him curled up on the sofa having a staring contest with Feuilly’s cat. The one of Combeferre and Courfeyrac when Courf took him to a butterfly house - everyone had a copy of that photo. A great shot, from when Grantaire had actually done his job properly, of Eponine grinning patronisingly at a ridiculous racist guy rallying against them. There were also a bunch of him, Montparnasse and Eponine during their vaguely emo phase at school - Eponine had a side fringe and he refused to take the photos down. Baz and Feu when they first moved in together, Baz wearing a kiss-the-cook apron and Feu showing off the floury handprints on the butt of his jeans. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta making a human pyramid next to the Eiffel Tower during a picnic. Jehan among the wild-flowers at the park, or the serene expression on their face when they read poetry. He managed to capture Marius’ joyful expression at his first ever surprise party. He also made sure to take loads of photos of Cosette, to make up for all the ones she missed being in when she was using her polaroid. That woman was far too selfless. He sketched them all during meetings, in fact he’d drawn some of them so many times, he didn’t even need to look at them. If he managed to get out of his own head and finish the drawing of Joly and Bossuet, then he’d pin that up there too.   
God, Grantaire thought suddenly, I’m so grateful for them. He’d probably never say it, of course, but they had honestly changed his life. Eponine’s too. More than just helping him get sober. He and Ep had been weirdly lost when Montparnasse left, and while Les Amis didn’t know what had happened, or even who Montparnasse was, they helped pick up the pieces. They were such a unique bunch of people, and had a way of helping people, often not even knowing that they did.

 

“Grantaire.”

His pencil lead snapped and scattered across the table. Eponine’s voice was low, and a look at her face told him this conversation would be a private one. He tried desperately to think of anything he’d done wrong recently but came up blank.   
He turned to her, with a sweet smile playing on his lips and flipped over the piece of paper, doodling little shapes and hearts while he looked at her. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and had pulled her jumper over her hands. She didn’t say anything. Eponine was still a woman of few words despite the Amis, mainly Courf, trying to get her to open up. 

“Hello dear! What can I do for you?” He prompted, hoping to god that he was still in her good books and could emerge from this conversation with his balls still intact.

“New roommate.” 

Grantaire’s head quirked.   
“Alright?” he asked, squinting at her. “Am I needed?”

“It’s Montparnasse. Back in town.” 

Grantaire’s pencil stilled and the front legs of his chair slammed down to the floor. He gave a short scoffing laugh. 

“My, my! Montparnasse is back.This should be fun!” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. He clicked his tongue. “Did he give any particular reason? Either for leaving or for coming back?”

Eponine opened her mouth to reply. 

“Who’s Montparnasse?” A voice piped up from the end of the table. Marius blushed slightly when Eponine scowled at him. 

“Doesn’t matter.” She said, then turned to talk to Grantaire again, “He’s changed.” 

“Well, yes. I’d imagine he would have after several years.”

“This is different. Something is wrong.” Eponine stated it simply, but there was a falter in her voice that made Grantaire worry ever so slightly. “You remember how he was before?” 

“Of course, he’s always been quite cold and er... knifey. Has he suddenly sprouted wings? Or got married? Or given up his knives? Oh god, he hasn’t grown a moustache, has he? That’s when you know something’s really wrong.”

“Mmm. None of those things has happened. Although...he’s wearing his hair just a little bit too long. Last time it was that long he shaved it all off. You remember of course.”

Of course he remembered. Montparnasse had turned up to Grantaire’s house, while Ep was staying over, blind-drunk, after having attempted to shave his hair. Grantaire had to finish the job, while leaning him precariously over the toilet.

“But apart from that, maybe he hasn’t changed. Maybe I’m being silly.” Eponine’s face was still stony, and she stood with her hands on her hips, nibbling her lip. 

“Ok, you’re second guessing yourself, which means that something is wrong.” Grantaire folded the piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket. “Shall I go and see him?” he stood up quickly. 

“No, no. Not yet. He’s been sleeping for a while. He just kind of turned up last night with a bag - a sports bag - that worried me too. But anyway, I’m babbling. What I think should happen is that...well I think...ugh lord...I can’t believe I’m going to say this...basically… what should happen is…” she trailed off, glaring in the direction of the other Amis. 

“I will stab you with this blunt pencil if you don’t get to the point.” Grantaire helpfully prompted her. 

She huffed at him, and swiped her hair away from her face.   
“I think he should meet this lot.” She waved her hand dismissively at them. 

Grantaire gave a sudden whoop of laughter that made Joly squeak and spill his tea on Bossuet, who screamed and while jumping up, managed to fall over. His chair knocked over as well, and scattered across the room, into Bahorel. The door swung open and Enj, Ferre and Courf walked in on the madness that had ensued, eyes wide. 

“What’s happening?” Combeferre sounded far too much like a school teacher for Grantaire’s liking. He couldn’t help but feel he was about to get told off.

“Can you guys function at all without us?” Courf grinned before heading over to Bossuet to help him up from the floor. 

“Grantaire’s laugh frightened me!” Joly whined, “No offence.”

“What was so funny?” Enjolras grinned at Grantaire, setting his file and coffee on the table in front of him.

Eponine stared at Enjolras evenly, obviously not willing to explain herself and then glanced at Grantaire who shrugged. 

“Ep suggested bringing our friend here which I think is a hilarious idea because he’d eat you guys alive.” Grantaire answered, ignoring the others’ frowns, and the way Enjolras’ face smile dropped slightly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Eponine added, grumpily. “He’s an old friend of mine and R’s. Haven’t seen him in a couple of years and long story short, I think something’s up. It might be nice for him to meet some normal people to sort of help him get back into the swing of things and maybe open up to us.”

Grantaire couldn’t help but scoff again. Getting Montparnasse to open up was like getting blood from a stone. Absolutely fucking impossible. 

“Fair enough. I’m always up to meet new people!” Courfeyrac grinned, setting down a drink for himself and Combeferre and taking a seat, “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice enough. Just don’t expect him to talk to you. Or like you. Also he has a couple of tricks up his sleeve.” Eponine replied.

“Like what?” Bahorel called from behind the bar. 

“She means knives.” Grantaire didn’t look at them and tapped his pen on the table, “He keeps knives somewhere and we think they’re up his sleeves. Also there’s a chance he may be a criminal or a hitman. But that’s just...speculation.”

“So when Eponine said “nice enough”...”

“He never hurts anyone who doesn’t deserve it. And he never breaks his promises. That’s a big thing of his. I’d trust his judgement more than I’d trust my own.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. A criminal with morals.” Marius muttered. 

Cosette elbowed him in the side. 

“You’ve all met my dad, right?” She began, flicking Marius a disapproving look. “Ol’ Jean Valjean. Do you not remember how he was in prison for years and how he adopted me and now lives a reformed life with me in a nice little house and we have several dogs? How come you gave him and me a chance but not Montparnasse? I carry a knife around. I know Eponine does too! And I’m sure Bahorel looks just as scary as Montparnasse! You still gave him a chance. You gave Eponine a chance and it’s well known that her parents are criminals! It’s not just speculation like Montparnasse! You’ve all got in your share of fights. Aren’t you here to battle prejudices and give people second chances? Isn’t that what you do? Why not give Montparnasse a chance?” she took a deep breath and blushed furiously. 

The others stared at her in silence for a moment, considering.   
“Well, it couldn’t hurt, could it?” Enjolras smiled warmly, settling his look on Grantaire, who couldn’t help but smile back, “Ep, R, bring your friend along to Friday’s meeting. It’s a more relaxed atmosphere. It’ll be nice to meet him.” 

\----------

Eponine nodded and moved down to sit next to Cosette as they waited for Feuilly and Jehan to arrive. Cosette smiled sweetly at her as she sat down.

“I can tell that this guy means a lot to you.” She touched her shoulder gently.

Eponine could only stare at her, feeling like Cosette could understand a lot more about he than she necessarily wanted her to. She tried to keep her face neutral, not wanting to show how worried she really was for Montparnasse. Cosette was clearly using this to disarm her first, then attack with what she really wanted to say.

“Sure. Me and Grantaire grew up with him.” And that’s all that Cosette would get today. 

“That’s why I spoke up for him.” Cosette explained, delicately. So much of Cosette was delicate.   
No, Eponine couldn’t pursue that line of thought at the moment. “I won’t have anyone bad-mouthing your friend, especially when I think your life could have been not so different from his. But that being said, if this Montparnasse guy hurts anyone here, including you, I will be very angry and he’ll no longer have my approval.”

It took all of Eponine’s strength not to laugh at Cosette then. She was the sweetest girl, but if she thought her approval would stop Montparnasse hurting any of them, she had another thing coming. Although, if Cosette got Valjean involved, that would be a different story. He might own five pair of oven gloves and make a mean apple pie, but he was also a reformed criminal. He’d only stolen a loaf of bread, but twenty years in prison can change someone. He had more tricks up his sleeve than Montparnasse, and Eponine guessed that if Cosette felt at all threatened, it would only take a phone call to have Valjean up here with a baseball bat demanding Montparnasse’s head. Eponine made a mental note to warn Montparnasse. Even if it meant that he left again. She’d rather he know. 

“I won’t let him hurt any of you. I’ll make him promise not to unless he has to.” She replied, in a low voice. 

Ironically enough, Cosette had talked about her knives like she’d had them all her life. But Eponine had gifted them to Cosette when they reunited about a year ago. She had taught her how to use them, for self defence.

And how had Eponine learnt how to use her knives?   
From Montparnasse, of course.


	2. what a terrible mess i've made of my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montparnasse grudgingly agrees to meet the Amis. It does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys !! back with another chapter, now i've sorted out the story a bit more in my head!  
> title is from You've Got Everything Now - the Smiths.  
> please leave comments and kudos!!

“Absolutely not.” 

Montparnasse raised a mug of coffee to his lips and blew gently before taking a sip. He had slept all through the Amis meeting the previous night and then all through the night until he woke at about 6 in the morning. He hadn’t woken up when she and Grantaire got home. He must have been exhausted because throughout their childhood he had been a notoriously light sleeper and the click of the door opening or shutting would have had him awake instantly.   
And now he sat at the counter top, staring into his coffee, looking so at home but so out of place at the same time. He looked noticeably older and still as handsome as ever. Fucking annoying cheekbones. His features were more defined, he had stubble on his jaw and his hair was slightly shaggy, curling a little at the nape of his neck and round his ears. If he had even a shred of his personality left, he’d be cutting it in the next few days. For as long as she had known him, he hated his hair growing over his ears. He had always preferred to look well-groomed and sophisticated, pretending he could afford the amount of haircuts it looked like he got, when it was normally him and Grantaire perched haphazardly over the bath with a pair of craft scissors and an electric beard trimmer.   
He had actually fallen asleep in the same clothes he arrived in, and looked the most voluntarily dishevelled she’d seen him in years. She couldn’t get the image of him on her doorstep out of her mind, a sports bag in one hand, the other ruffling his hair. Then he had waltzed right in, eating her leftover pasta from the night before without a word. Then he slept the whole night. Not telling her where he had been. Not apologising. Nothing.  
Grantaire had stared at him curled up on the sofa like he couldn’t believe he was real. He’d had a tender look in his eyes, and she had to stop him reaching out to wake him up. That would have ended up badly. 

But now she didn’t give a shit. She was angry as fuck at Montparnasse. How dare he do this to them and expect them to be fine with it?

She gave him a withering look as she slammed a plate of toast down on the table. 

“Give me more credit. If you’re staying here for more than a week, then you’re fucking meeting my friends.” She offered a slice to Montparnasse but he shook his head. 

“Give it to Gav.” he waved dismissively at her. 

Eponine blinked at him in shock. He had already been back for one night but hadn’t noticed yet. It was infuriating. And worrying, that he hadn’t done the cursory sweep of the flat that he used to do when he’d been away for longer than a week. He used to check the locks, check the bedrooms, make sure everything was safe for him, and them. But now? This kind of shit was what Eponine had meant when she spoke to Grantaire the previous night. Montparnasse was different, he had something on his mind, something that was distracting him, he’d been fucking gone for years, and now had the observational skills of a baby. 

“What’s wrong with you? Do you fucking see Gavroche here?” she snapped, gesturing wildly around her. “My parents took him again.” 

Montparnasse stared at the counter, looking rightfully guilty. 

“They still live in the same place.” 

Eponine huffed at him again. She had forgotten his specific way of asking questions. No inflections, no up-speak, no room for error. Just making a statement, like he always thought he was right. 

“Obviously not, or I would have gotten them out. I can’t figure out where they are. No one can.” 

She leant on the counter heavily and pressed her fingers to her closed eyes, breathing deeply. 

“Them.” Montparnasse broke through the silence.

“Azelma lived here for a while.”

“Ok.”

Montparnasse placed his mug down softly. He stood up abruptly and poured the rest of it down the sink. He grabbed a leather jacket off the back of the chair and shrugged it on. The leather squeaked over his broad shoulders. Eponine felt a brief bubble of hope. Leather jacket used to mean business. 

“Leave it to me.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” he rolled his eyes at her, “you know don’t need to ask when it comes to you and Gav and R.”

He tried not to look at Eponine as he walked out, swinging the spare key around his finger. She was left with the toast and the dregs of coffee in a cup. 

“Oi!” she called as he was opening the front door, “you’re coming to the fucking meeting. 7 at the Musain on Friday. Be there or be a fucking idiot.”

He didn’t say anything in reply, just gave her the middle finger on the way out. She grumbled profanities to herself and bit into a slice and strode into her room to get ready for work. 

It hit her suddenly, as she was putting her lanyard round her neck, how much Montparnasse had missed. She and Grantaire had both finished their degrees while working their arses off at the Musain to be able to afford their flat. Originally, she and R had gone to secondary school together, with Montparnasse arriving about a year later and beating up any arsehole that messed with them. She didn’t really remember how they had first come together. But they had been basically inseparable since. They had all moved to the city aged eighteen and got the shitty flat together. Grantaire had studied Classics and she had studied History and Politics. She had properly met Cosette during second year, who studied Gender and Politics. She had introduced them to Les Amis, who had coincidentally started holding their meetings at the Musain. It was like it was meant to be. 

Montparnasse had lived with them, but didn’t go to University. She and R hadn’t really been sure what he did during those years, but he brought in money and said it wouldn’t come back to bite them in the arse so they accepted it. Then, one day, she had come home from work to find a suitcase as she walked through the door, and a certain Gavroche sitting on the sofa watching cartoons with a shit-eating grin. Montparnasse was raiding the freezer for a bag of frozen peas for a sore shoulder. It felt like a wonderful dream. She thought she’d never be able to thank him enough for that. 

He had been such a strong presence and unshakable presence in her life for so long. And then he left. About a year later. She and R had been in the third year of their four year courses. And then he left with no word, no note, leaving them alone. Meaning Gav and Azelma were later left to be taken by their parents. Why had he left? What changed him? She had meant to ask him that morning, to properly grill him about where the fuck he’d been but she’d let her anger overwhelm her. At this rate, she might never have answers but thinking about how he had left so quickly when he knew Gav and Azelma might be in danger, she thought that she could live with that. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

Montparnasse was late. Eponine was pretending not to care. She hadn’t even been sure that he was coming. Grantaire watched as she fiddled with the label on her bottle of water. She had tied her hair in a haphazard bun, to stop herself messing that up too probably. Grantaire hadn’t even seen Montparnasse since the night he’d got back and he knew Eponine had only seen him twice, which was how they knew that he hadn’t fucked off again. 

“Other people are running late too.” Grantaire knew what she was thinking, “Feuilly’s gonna be another half an hour.”

“I know.” Eponine huffed, “I’m just weirdly nervous. I know he’s gonna be odd and cold towards this lot and I’m not sure how they’ll handle it.”

There was a slight hitch in the conversation when Montparnasse finally strolled in.   
He stood out.   
How could he not?   
His looks could rival Enjolras’ in the way they drew people’s eyes to them. Eponine was right - his hair was longer than it had been in years, and it curled more than it used to. He would have to keep pushing it back and ruffling it, which would no doubt send people wild. The same piercing brown eyes, thank goodness. They had always been lacking in something, a shine, or life or something that made Montparnasse look slightly dead inside.  
His hands were buried deep in his worn in leather jacket. He wore a plain white shirt underneath. He clearly hadn’t been doing anything massively violent. He never wore white on days he thought he’d get blood or mud on him. His eyes had already swept the room, and he located Eponine and Grantaire in an instant. His face remained blank as he slid effortlessly into a chair next to them. He tapped his hands on the table in front of him. He glanced at Grantaire for a second and looked at the table again. 

“R. You’re alright.” 

Grantaire smiled at him over the top of his glass. 

“Course I am. You?” 

Montparnasse’s lip twitched slightly. 

“Fine.” 

“Nice. Where’ve you been?” Grantaire thought he might as well cut to the chase, seeing as he was there now but the glare that Montparnasse shot him almost made him choke on his Diet Coke.

“Not drinking tonight, R.” Montparnasse snapped, leaning back in his chair. 

There were murmurs from behind them but Montparnasse couldn’t bring himself to look at whoever it was. He didn’t know them. And he certainly didn’t care for their approval, or disapproval in this case. Grantaire had forgotten about his ability to be an absolute bastard when he was annoyed or stressed. He’d expected a comment of some kind. 

“I’m over two years sober actually.” Grantaire gestured around with a smile, “Thanks to this lot. You’d know if you’d stayed around.”

“Ok.” He ignored Grantaire’s cutting tone, and unzipped his jacket, smiling slightly. “I’m proud.”

“I missed you.” Grantaire’s voice cracked slightly and he hated that. He was all for men showing emotion, but it was so fucking annoying, especially when he was trying to be angry, not weepy. He tried to keep his voice at a whisper, to keep their conversation private. 

“Three years man. You didn’t tell us anything. Not even a fucking note. How do you think Eponine felt?”

“Hey man,” Eponine’s head snapped up, “Don’t drag me into your emotional reunion. I might throw up if you don’t start with the banter in a minute.”

Grantaire laughed bitterly. Why couldn’t Eponine pick a side? Didn’t she want to know what had happened to Montparnasse? But he saw something in her eyes and knew he couldn’t pursue it now. He’d have to ask her about it later. Montparnasse had clearly done something to get Eponine off his case for a while. Grantaire wished he knew the secrets of doing that. 

“So I assume your being sober now has something to do with the blond in the corner.” Montparnasse smirked, bringing his voice down to a whisper and leaning closer, “The famous Apollo as I remember correctly.”

Grantaire huffed out a small laugh and nudged him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up and don’t say anything incriminating. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Montparnasse didn’t deem that worthy of a response. 

\-------------------------------------------------

“He’s just...standing silently and looks like he’s going to murder someone.” Courf stage-whispered to Eponine and Combeferre, gesturing hysterically across the room at Montparnasse, who had just refused a handshake from Joly, and received a glare from Bossuet. 

“Courf. He’s just standing there. To be honest, he’s probably nervous.” Combeferre tried to reason with him but it was impossible when Courf was in an excitable mood. 

“God isn’t he so attractive though? Like the shoulder to waist ratio is something else, and he must know what a white t-shirt with rolled sleeves does to the gays?” Courf prattled on, biting his lip. He rested a hand on Combeferre’s arm lovingly. “Obviously honey, he doesn’t shine a light on you!”

“No,” Combeferre was staring, gawking in fact at Montparnasse as well, “It’s ok. I actually understand. He’s...very good looking.”

Courf grinned back at him. Eponine rolled her eyes. Montparnasse could turn heads just by entering a room and rolling up his sleeves, yet Cosette wouldn’t look twice at her after five years. And who the fuck knew what was going on with Enjolras and Grantaire. For once in her life, she thought that Enjolras might have got his head out of his arse and realised he liked Grantaire, but he was too obtuse to notice. Judging by the way they were staring at each other in the corner of the room, debating what appeared to be the bardic legacy and potential composition of the Iliad. She rolled her eyes again. 

“Why does he talk like that?” Combeferre suddenly asked, tilting his head and watching Montparnasse like he was a particularly interesting experiment. 

Eponine knew what he meant but still shot him a glare. “Elaborate.”

“Firstly, he’s not talkative at all. And then when he does talk, he doesn’t go up and down in sentences, you know. Everything is a statement. There’s no emotion or inflection there. It’s very interesting.”

“He’s always spoken like that. We;ve never really been sure why. I think it’s because he just doesn’t care enough to speak normally. Grantaire thinks it’s a way of establishing dominance.” Eponine remarked. 

“He can establish dominance over me any day.” 

Eponine rolled her eyes at Courf. She’d walked right into that one though. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Feuilly’s running late but he said he’ll be here any minute!” Bahorel bowed his head slightly as he walked through the doorway, his phone in one hand and a bag of takeaway in the other. 

“We know!” everyone chorused, already seated around various tables, eating snacks. 

“Feuilly.” Montparnasse said in a low voice, turning to Eponine. “That’s not a common name.” 

“Not really,” Eponine said. He had been sitting with her for a few minutes, and hadn’t touched the nachos she’d ordered. He could feel himself suddenly turning the same colour as the garlic dip and rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. 

“He’s a twenty three year old ginger sod who’s screwing Bahorel. He joined the group like 3 years ago, I think.” 

“Ok. I’m leaving.” Montparnasse swiped at his bottom lip, and started to rise from his chair. 

“What?” 

Montparnasse was already pushing past her, through the crowd, towards the nearest available door. It took him to a balcony, rather than the set of stairs he’d come up through. He’d lost all sense of bearing and berated himself for it. That had never happened before. He was letting himself lose his touch. God, everything was so confusing.

The metal of the balcony was freezing under his hands, and his breath fogged in the late evening air. He leaned over the edge and peered at the pavement. He took a deep breath that seared his throat. It wasn’t too far down. He could definitely climb it. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe it was a different Feuilly. Maybe if it was the same Feuilly, he wouldn’t remember him. Then Montparnasse could go back inside and continue catching up with everything he missed with Grantaire and Eponine. 

No, that was too good to be true. A ginger sod, indeed. 

Leaning forward again, he swung one leg over the balcony, and scuffed his shoe on the other side of the ledge until he got a firm enough grip. There was a frost starting to form. He wished he’d brought gloves. 

“Are you alright?” 

His head shot up with a crack.

They weren’t Feuilly, and that was all he cared about. Although they did have gingery hair and light brown skin like Feuilly. And so many freckles. Their freckles were a nicer colour than Feuilly’s had ever been. And they were of a slighter build. Probably. Montparnasse imagined that Feuilly would be muscular now, or maybe lean. Not dainty like this person. They looked like they could be a ballet dancer. 

Not if they wore crocs with patterned socks though. That was a deal breaker. And yellow dungarees. 

He must be hallucinating. 

“I’m having a nightmare.” Montparnasse replied in shock, “I’m dreaming your choice of clothes.”

“Oh please,” they scoffed, “You don’t have the imagination to dream this outfit.”

“You call that a fucking outfit. It’s a fucking travesty.”

“Nah mate, a travesty is your ugly mug.”

Montparnasse raised an eyebrow at them. 

“So who are you avoiding?”

“No one.” Montparnasse swung his leg over the metal rail again and tried to get his breath back.

They just smirked at him. Montparnasse hated being smirked at, it was patronising. And also too pretty for a person wearing crocs and yellow dungarees. He really couldn’t get over that. 

“Oh sure.” They reached out to bump his shoulder. 

Montparnasse lurched backwards.

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Noted,” holding their hands up in surrender, “How do you feel about shaking hands and doing introductions?”

Montparnasse stared at them as they confidently held out their hand, a grin plastered on their face, eyes crinkling. 

“Montparnasse.” He reached out and shook their hand quickly. 

They grinned brightly at him, and with the fairy-lights reflected in their eyes, Montparnasse found he couldn’t drag his eyes away.

“Oh how lovely to meet you! I’m Jean Prouvaire. But you can call me Jehan if you’d like!”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------

“So now they both work part time at the Musain, but Eponine is also a part-time journalist, and Grantaire works at the Museum. He does tours and things and also runs the kid’s stuff as well. It’s really cute. He’s great with kids.” 

Montparnasse was leaning against the balcony, staring at Jehan who was leaning to his left. They were sharing cigarettes. Montparnasse appreciated how carefully Jehan took the cigarette every time, so as not to brush hands with him. He didn’t think he could stand being touched anymore right now, even by accident.   
He had attempted small talk for about thirty seconds before giving up, but Jehan had pushed right on, talking about anything and everything. There was a chance he’d been invited to dig up a grave, but he couldn’t tell if Jehan was serious or not. 

Jehan had then given him an indiscernible look and found it necessary to catch him up on the things he’d missed in the past few years. 

“I figured you don’t want to ask them for details because then they’d ask you why you left. It’s probably getting uncomfortable.”

Montparnasse squinted at them. He definitely wasn’t that readable, and definitely hadn’t told Jehan anything like that. They seemed to understand that he was asking how they knew that. 

“I know this might come as a surprise, but we’ve known them for about 5 years. Perhaps in a different capacity to you, but still, we’re incredibly close. It was very difficult when you left, for them both. I know Grantaire told you we helped him quit drinking, but it got worse before it got better. I don’t know why I’m telling you. I don’t want to make you feel bad right after you got back. But they really missed you.”

He looked away from them, and out onto the street, watching the people walking down below.   
He tried to find the words to explain himself, without getting to deep into it with an absolute stranger. He didn’t owe Jehan anything, except maybe for helping Grantaire. 

“I will talk to them eventually. But they won’t even understand that I can’t right now. So best to say nothing.”

The look Jehan gave him indicated they didn’t agree with him at all. Montparnasse didn’t have the time or inclination to unpack anything about his life. 

“Thank you for looking after them.” he took a deep breath, “Now, I need to get this over with, I think.”

Jehan frowned at him. 

“What are you talking about?”

Montparnasse stubbed out the cigarette, and thought about how to word it. Something about Jehan made him want to talk more, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“It’s not necessary for you to know.”

Montparnasse stared at the door that led from the balcony to the main room, then he looked back at Jehan, hating that he had to leave the safety of the smoking area.

\----------------------------------

Montparnasse came through the door to the main room at the same time as Jehan, but they left his side too quickly to join their friends. 

“Feuilly!” she called out, and Feuilly started to turn around, where he was standing talking with Bahorel, “This is my friend Montparnasse by the way.” 

Montparnasse came to a stop as Feuilly turned fully around to look at him. He stopped talking to Bahorel suddenly frowning. 

“Montpar- what the fuck?! Monty?” 

Silence began to fill the room and Montparnasse’s hands had begun to shake again, more visibly. He went to put one in his pocket but it changed its course and he swiped nervously at his bottom lip instead. Feuilly reached him to touch him and Montparnasse took a step back, keeping his face impossibly blank, almost glaring.

“I’m right aren’t I? Fucking hell, Monty! What are you doing here?” he grinned up at him. 

Montparnasse opened his mouth, but the words seemed to stutter out of him, making an incoherent jumble. He snapped his mouth shut and frowned at Feuilly. 

“You didn’t know I was coming.” Montparnasse found his voice at last, and managed to croak out a sentence. 

“Nah, no one mentioned anything to me, I’ve been really busy with work so missed a few meetings. What brings you here?”

“I’ve been friends with Eponine and Grantaire for some time.” Montparnasse was increasingly aware of the burning looks he was getting. Feuilly was unaware. God, Montparnasse could have been sick right there. He never thought he’d have to run into Feuilly again. Never thought he’d see him again. Never thought he’d know if he was ok or not.   
He was so torn right then between elation that Feuilly was here and happy, and then sheer, unadulterated fear. He was fighting the urge to either grab Feuilly in a strong hug or run full pelt out of the room and not stop until he was out of the country. 

“Really?” Feuilly glanced back at them and grinned, “What a small world! It’s so good to see you!” Feuilly reached out to slap Montparnasse arm and he jerked back just in time. 

“Don’t touch me.” he warned, just about stopping himself from drawing a knife.

Feuilly lifted his arms up in surrender. 

“We should catch up. Dude, where have you been all these years?” he asked. 

“Here and there.” Montparnasse said, a wave of nausea overtaking him. He really couldn’t look Feuilly in the eye without the urge to throw up overwhelming him. His hands felt awfully clammy.

He looked at Eponine and Grantaire for support instead. They were of no use, standing over the other side of the room with wide eyes holding onto their drinks for dear life. Grantaire mouthed the word “Monty” at him. 

Feuilly was saying something else that Montparnasse hadn’t heard. He holding his phone. Trying to get him to put his number in. Montparnasse shook his head dumbly. The sound of Feuilly’s voice was distorted. He was so so aware of everyone watching, and that Feuilly could say something damning, unintentional or not, at any moment. Montparnasse knew he didn’t want to be there for that. 

“I’ve got to go, huh?” He was already backing slowly into the door. Feuilly looked up, frowning. Locking eyes with him, Montparnasse could see the little old boy he’d known. 

“Montparnasse!” Eponine called, broken out of her frozen state, she moved across the room towards him, “You’ve got to stay! You promised.”

Montparnasse closed his eyes briefly to control his breathing, and get his shaking hands back under control. Trying to remove the picture of tiny Feuilly that seemed seared into his mind. 

“You promised me you’d meet them.” she repeated.

“I did.” he spat, “ and now I’m leaving.”

Eponine scowled at him. Grantaire had joined her now, resting a calming hand on her shoulder. Those two on one side, Feuilly on the other, who he couldn’t even look at. 

“You’re embarrassing me, Montparnasse. Just stay and hang out with all of us.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Eponine! I don’t want to hang out with your stupid fucking friends!”

Silence followed his words. Eponine was glaring at him. Grantaire looked concerned which was so much worse. Montparnasse daren’t look at Feuilly. He looked instead at Jehan, who was staring at him from across the room. He felt the tiniest twinge of regret, before he felt Feuilly move near him, grabbing his shoulder to try and get him to look at him. 

Montparnasse stared at the hand on his shoulder and then pushed Feuilly back, enough that he stumbled. 

“I said don’t touch me, dickhead.” 

He didn’t wait, he grabbed the door handle and left without a second glance. 

The cafe was too busy downstairs so he walked out the back door into the alleyway. 

He leaned against the wall with one hand for a moment, before throwing up heavily onto the side of the road. Everytime he closed his eyes, he could see Feuilly. And then the others. Some better and some worse. And then he could hear the promises, some of them empty, some of them definitely not. 

“Oh fuck.” He groaned, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He fell forward again, scrabbling at the wall. He dug in his pocket for his wallet.

He had enough to drink himself unconscious. Drink until he couldn’t see Feuilly, or Eponine and Grantaire, or little Gavroche, who must be much older now, or even the dazzling light in Jehan’s eyes. 

Let tomorrow’s Montparnasse deal with what tonight’s Montparnasse had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it !! please leave comments and kudos ! hopefully i'll have the next chapter up soon!  
> 


	3. all or nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine attempts a talk with Montparnasse. Goes about as well as expected. He has a surprise for them.

Eponine woke up the next morning to the sound of the door as it clicked shut. She forced her eyes open and fumbled about, pulling the woollen blanket off her shoulders. Her neck ached from sleeping scrunched up on the sofa. 

She had waited for Montparnasse to come home. He had not come home. 

She looked at him now, just coming through the door at eight in the morning, and was almost glad she was here. 

He looked absolutely awful. 

And that was coming from her. She’d had her fair share of bad nights. 

His hair was wild, sticking out in all directions, like he’d actually been dragged through a bush. Dark eye-bags stood out on his sickly looking skin. He no longer had his beautiful leather jacket, and his previously white shirt was now caked with mud. He was stumbling through the doorway, holding an empty bottle of vodka in one hand. She guessed that that wasn’t his only bottle of the night. She stared at him, but he refused to meet her eyes, which just made her boil with anger. He lurched to a stop a few steps into the flat, taking a few tries to balance himself.

“What the fuck have you been doing?” she snapped. 

She even had her hands on her hips, like a mother. Not her mother, obviously. A mother that actually cared. Oh the irony.

Montparnasse lifted his eyes to hers and gave the most intense glare she’d ever received. 

“I went out.” He shrugged, enunciating his words carefully, trying not to appear completely sloshed.

“No. You left before we even got started. You were rude about my friends and you broke your promise!”

“No I fucking didn’t.” Montparnasse snapped right back at her, with the confidence only a drunk person could have, “You said I couldn’t hurt them. And I didn’t hurt them at all.”

God, sometimes she really hated him and his ability to find loopholes, even while swaying on the spot. 

“I didn’t hurt them.” He repeated, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “And I never will because I’m never going to see them again. Especially Feuilly.” 

He spat the name out like it was cursed. 

“Oh my god, you dramatic fucking bastard.” Eponine threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “What even is your beef with Feuilly anyway? He said you went to the same kid’s home for a few years. Shouldn’t you be celebrating that you’ve refound each other?”

Montparnasse gave her a sharp look. She knew that she’d made a mistake. She could feel his anger building in the air. She shouldn’t have tried to joke around with him. It was clearly too soon for any of that. 

“What else did he say about me?” He asked. 

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look convinced. He lifted a hand to his head, rubbing at his temples. His forehead was crinkling behind his hand and Eponine couldn’t help but think he was hiding his eyes from her. She could never read anything from his eyes anyway. He knew that. The only way she knew what he was thinking was if he said it aloud. He never said much, but he was always blunt. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” She prompted him. 

To her alarm, he let out a strange guttural sound conveying something like anger and something like pain and threw his empty bottle of vodka at the wall. It smashed loudly into pieces on the floor.

“Don’t let him talk about me ever again.”

Eponine just stared at him. 

“You know, I’m sick of you acting like you’re so fucking mysterious.” She snarled at him. “And now someone’s come along who might actually know shit about you and you’re ready to run off again. Newsflash, asshole, everyone in life has things to say about everyone they meet. You’re never going to stay unknown. We’re meant to be friends, Montparnasse. How are we meant to trust each other if you don’t tell me things?”

Montparnasse met her eyes suddenly and looked like he wanted to say something, before thinking better of it. Eponine was shocked to see that his eyes were shining. He let out a small huff of annoyance and rubbed at his temples again. 

He laughed bitterly.

“You’re almost right. Some people have such shit lives.” he looked around, a bit dazed, still a bit drunk, and Eponine knew that whatever he said next was something he had been sitting on for a while, and was only just letting it come to the surface, “I don’t like being vulnerable. Obviously. And it’s all well and good you talking about trust. But if all these things I don’t tell you were actually easy to say, make no mistake I would have told you. But sometimes things aren’t easy to say at all and aren’t easy to hear either. God forbid I actually have emotions, and things in my past that I don’t want to talk about.”

“But I do trust you. I trust you and Grantaire without question. I know that’s not enough for you. You want proof or some shit like that. But the proof is the fact that I came back. And that I wanted to come back. There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to go.”

“But where did you go, Montparnasse? When you left us for so long?” Eponine was feeling the beginnings of frustrated tears in the corner of her eyes. 

“I intended to find my parents.” Montparnasse looked at the ground, swallowing heavily, “But it didn’t work out. That’s all I can give you for now.”

Eponine nodded. She didn’t dare ask for more from him. She felt like she was stomping on eggshells just by breathing while he spoke to her. 

“Thank you.”

Montparnasse gave a small shake of his head. 

“Montparnasse. I hate to bring this up after we were arguing-”

“We weren’t arguing.” He interrupted quickly. Eponine rolled her eyes. 

“Gav and Azelma?” She couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice. 

“I’m trying my best.” 

“Try harder please.” She smiled, trying to start a jokey rapport with him.

He didn’t smile back. He just stared at her for a few long seconds. Then he looked away and walked right out of the flat again. God, she had no idea how to talk to him anymore.

\---------------------------------------

Eponine stared at the front door, which had slammed shut a few moments previously. She felt a presence behind her. Grantaire stood, leaning on the doorway of his room with a cup of coffee in one hand. 

“Did you hear everything?” She asked, heading over to the kitchen area to flick the kettle on. 

“Yeah. He wanted to find his parents, right? But it didn’t work out. Does that mean that he found his parents, but it didn’t work out in general, or that it didn’t work out because he couldn’t find his parents? Or potentially that he tried to find his parents, but found something else instead?”

“Any of those are valid options.” Eponine sat at the counter, putting her head in her hands. 

“Eponine.” Grantaire hovered next to her, wearing the expression he wore when he was trying to figure out if he’d be castrated for whatever he said next. 

“I think you were a bit harsh on him.” Eponine glared at him, “Hear me out. He’s clearly struggling. Instead of trying the tough love approach, why not just try the love approach? No pressure to do anything, like meeting our friends. If he’s meant to stick with them, it’ll happen. Like how we couldn’t get rid of the fuckers, and still can’t to be honest. I know you want answers, but that’s not how you get them from Montparnasse, is it? Why can’t we just be glad he chose to come back, and love him like we used to? Our little trio, where we’d do anything for each other?”

“Except stay? Except get my siblings back?”

“What if he hurts himself trying to get them back, though?”

“He wouldn’t. June 18th 2011. When we were 18. He promised no self-sacrificing after the incident with the football team.”

“God Eponine, we put so much faith in his promises. But honestly, we have no idea what’s going through his head when he makes them, no idea what his rules actually are.” 

 

\-------------------------------------------

Eponine had not seen Montparnasse since the disastrous talk on Saturday. They were now halfway through the Tuesday meeting. Feuilly was talking about a new project that he wanted to work on. Eponine couldn’t say she was properly listening, which she felt bad about. Cosette had told her earlier that she wanted to dye her hair pink and Eponine was now focused intently on imagining what it would look like. 

Feuilly stopped talking abruptly when the door of their back room swung open. 

Eponine turned round in her seat. 

Montparnasse was there. 

With Gavroche and Azelma.

“Hate to interrupt.” Montparnasse glared around the room, “I know it’s your important meeting. Eponine, here are your siblings. Their stuff will arrive at the flat shortly.”

 

He pushed Gavroche forward, who ran forward to Eponine, clinging to her. He was 12 years old now, and soon he’d claim he was too old for cuddles. Eponine was too shocked to say anything. She just stroked Gavroche’s soft hair and kissed the crown of his head gently.

Grantaire had risen from his chair to run forward and hug Azelma tightly. 

“There’s a thing you need to sign.” He took a wad of paper from where it was tucked in the butt of his jeans. He looked around for a pen and moved forward, plucking one from where Grantaire had been sitting. She stared at his dark knuckles, bloody and beginning to bruise badly. She instinctively held Gavroche tighter. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. 

“Don’t thank me. Sign it.” She noticed his wince as he tried to grip the pen tight enough to put a star next to every place she had to sign.

She noticed a bruise on his cheek, and a small trickle of blood in his hairline. 

“You used to be better at fighting.” She couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. 

There was a new tense line in his shoulders. He gritted his teeth. 

“He got through loads of mum and dad’s friends!” Gavroche piped up suddenly. 

“Gavroche! Shut up!” Montparnasse snapped. 

“One of them had a baseball bat. Montparnasse was hit. I saw.” Azelma added coolly from behind him. Joly made a small noise from the other side of the table. 

“Well I think he was a bit distracted by the knives!” That was Gavroche again. 

Montparnasse leant on the table more, his eyes closed, breathing deeply. 

“What did you do? Are the kids hurt at all?” Eponine reached out, her fingers starting to brush the bruise on his cheek. 

He flinched back. There was a look of disgust etched into his face, and something else. His feelings couldn't be hurt? Could they?

“Fuck you. I keep my promises.”

“July 18th. 2011.” She reminded him helpfully.

“That doesn’t apply here.” 

The others around them looked confused. Eponine ignored them. She gave Montparnasse a look that clearly screamed ‘elaborate’. 

“Certain rules don’t count when children are involved.” He admitted reluctantly, rolling his eyes. 

Now that was a surprise. Eponine stared at him and he stared right back, almost daring her to say something else. She decided she would save it for now.

“Right.” Montparnasse clicked the pen and tossed it towards her, breaking eye contact. “I’m leaving. The Thenardiers won’t bother you tonight so I’m trusting you to get Gav and Azelma home if I leave now.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay, Montparnasse.” Enjolras spoke up from the other end of the table, looking so shocked that it was clear he hadn’t meant to say it at all. He recovered quickly. The two men next to him, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, Montparnasse remembered correctly, nodded as well. 

“No. I think not.” Montparnasse straightened up, ruffling his hair slightly, and then wiping the sticky blood from his temple onto his jeans. “You’re a part of their lives, but not mine. Let’s not make this any more awkward by pretending otherwise.”

Enjolras only looked mildly offended, and looked straight to Grantaire who could only shrug apologetically. 

Feuilly mumbled some choice words, still loud enough for Montparnasse to hear, trying to get a rise out of him. Montparnasse just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“In fact,” Montparnasse took several steps backwards towards the doorway, “I’d much rather never see any of you again.”

And then, with a pounding head, aching hands and the sound of Feuilly telling him to fuck off even louder than before, he turned and walked out. If he was lucky, that would be his last interaction with any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler for next chapters - Montparnasse trying to avoid les amis doesn't quite go to plan ;)  
> Thank you for reading !!please like and comment if you want to!! I'd love to hear your thoughts!!


	4. separation brings us awfully close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of lighter chapters after Montparnasse said he didn't want to see any of the Amis again and they suddenly seem to appear everywhere he goes?? count me the fuck in!!  
> Please like and leave comments!!  
> also chapter title is from Heartbreaker - Bad Suns  
> that line made me think of this chapter, although the song in general doesn't

Montparnasse was massively, categorically unlucky. Considering he was hoping to never see any of the Amis again, he failed dismally. 

He was honestly just trying to go about his daily life but they still somehow managed to crop up everywhere he went, through no fault of his own. It was actually spooky. By the time he made it through almost the entire of the Amis, Montparnasse kind of decided to just fuck it and go along with whatever life was throwing at him.  
He had walked into the florist which was inexplicably also partly a cafe in the nice part of town, intending to ask if they still had any jobs going. He hadn’t told Eponine or Grantaire that he was looking for a proper job, but he’d been back about two weeks and knew he needed to start doing something before going absolutely crazy with boredom. Obviously he’d tell them once he actually got the job. He walked down the road, with his specific brand of charm and confidence that bordered on arrogance but not quite. It had taken years to cultivate, and it normally got him whatever he wanted and more. You couldn’t solve everything with brute force. Sometimes you needed to be a little charming. He hadn’t needed to be in years though.  
So yes, he walked into the florist/cafe after he saw a poster in their window the day previously. He returned that day wearing his nice leather jacket, dressed to fucking impress. He turned on the charm, chatting amiably to the owner of the shop about whether he could work in the flower section or the cafe or both. He made small talk. He laughed at the man’s jokes. He really was a terrible man capable of being charming. He would be contacted in a few days. 

And really, that was where the trouble began. His first day on the job and who should stroll through the door but Enjolras, of course. 

“Oh. Hello.” Enjolras said, clearly unsure how to approach him properly. 

He stopped abruptly next to him. Montparnasse was trying his best to ignore him, but there was only so much flower shuffling you could do while someone was standing right next to you, staring intently. 

“Yes.” Montparnasse drawled, rolling his eyes, “I work here. Get on with it.”

“Oh. Well. It’s actually quite personal really.” Enjolras started to blush, tendering stroking a bouquet of flowers in front of him. 

“I don’t care.” Montparnasse wanted to make that incredibly clear. 

“Well. Erm. I wanted to buy something for...er… Grantaire. If you must know.”

“I really don’t need to know.” Montparnasse repeated. “I’d rather you didn’t tell me.”

“Yes, of course. You don’t like us.” 

Montparnasse nodded and made to start moving away. Enjolras turned to him again. Montparnasse prayed to god he didn’t say anything. 

“Do you think Grantaire likes me? I mean, do you think he’d like it if I got him flowers, or a plant or something?” 

Montparnasse glared at the ceiling, and grumbled under his breath. 

“I don’t think you understand how much I don’t care. Either buy some flowers, or leave.”

“Right. Yes.” Enjolras turned to walk away again, losing courage by the second. 

Oh, Montparnasse was going to regret this, he could feel it in his very bones. It physically pained him to call Enjolras back. He could barely look the poor kid in the face. 

“Grantaire likes sunflowers. A lot. They’re happy.”

Enjolras broke into a smile. 

“I had nothing to do with this.” Montparnasse told him in a low voice as he passed Enjolras a bouquet of sunflowers. 

And if Montparnasse asked Grantaire about a certain vase of sunflowers on the kitchen counter when he got home, and then had the good grace to look surprised when R said ‘they’re from Enjolras’, well, that was nobody’s business but his own. Enjolras made Grantaire happy, so Montparnasse could handle one incredibly awkward conversation. But that was as close as he was getting to the Amis again.

 

\---------------------------------------

When Montparnasse walked into the flower shop the next day, he was surprised to see a familiar head of ginger hair. 

“Hello.” 

Jehan was sitting on top of the counter, reading a book about Romantic poets. When they looked up, a myriad of emotions flitted across their face - suspicion, confused happiness. 

“What are you doing here? Are you looking for flowers?” They asked, putting their book down and jumping off the counter. 

It was then that Montparnasse noticed their apron and knew he was completely fucked. He dragged his matching apron out of his bag.

“I work here now.” 

Jehan stared at him, cracking into a massive smile, their eyes lighting up. 

“Brilliant!” they said, and Montparnasse felt his stomach swoop. Working with one of the Amis was going to become a problem, he was sure.

But surely he could work with Jehan. Just because he worked with one of them, it didn’t mean that he’d have to associate with the rest of them. Besides, he probably wouldn’t find a nicer place to work than this. It had weirdly good pay, the flowers were pretty, and he’d be allowed to take home cakes from the cafe at the end of the day even if he’d just end up giving them to Gavroche and Azelma. Result.

He wasn’t sure yet if he’d tell Grantaire and Eponine. Surely they would know it was the same place that Jehan worked and he’d never hear the end of it? Yes, better to just not be specific about his new job.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

Two days later, Montparnasse was walking back from work. He was thinking about Jehan. They had finished their book about the Romantics and had asked Montparnasse questions about Byron, Shelley and Keats for most of the morning, before Montparnasse admitted that he really didn’t know that much about them to be able to talk about them. 

“Oh!” Jehan had replied happily, “Sometimes I forget people aren’t as in to them as I am! Do you want me to tell you about them instead?” 

Montparnasse had been rearranging some flowers aimlessly, while Jehan sat on the counter again. He looked at them - closer to his height when sitting on the counter but still pretty small. He had a whole afternoon to pass and he might as well pretend to listen to Jehan. 

“Sure.” He shrugged, “Tell me about your favourite.”

And so his afternoon was passed arranging flowers, making coffee and listening to Jehan talk wistfully about John Keats, then Byron, then Shelley, then Wordsworth, then Blake. Keats was his favourite, but there was no particular order after that. It was mainly tangents. But to hear someone talk about something they loved reminded him of days early into Grantaire’s degree when all the information was new to him, and everything was interesting and exciting, a continuous search for knowledge. That was how Jehan talked about everything, apparently. 

 

Montparnasse was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud and weird noise in a dead-end alley-way between two buildings that he was passing. He paused and completely followed his immediate instinct to investigate. A few steps into the alley-way he noticed a fluffy cat lying on the ground meowing loudly. As he approached it, it hissed loudly at him. He held out his hands to try and sooth it. 

It was then that he noticed the kittens. Four tiny fluffy kittens huddled around the mother. They were shivering. Montparnasse reached out grudgingly for the mother again. She swiped at him and he moved away. 

“Fuck you.” He shuffled away to look in the neary-by bin for something to help. 

After grumbling and climbing into the skip, he found a slightly mangled but still usable cardboard box and a holey blanket with some disturbing stains and a bad smell that clung to the air around it. He decided it was the best he could do. He’d already spent far too much time standing in a bin for one day. He would have to incinerate his clothes when he got home. 

He sorted out the box, with the blanket inside and prompted the mother as gently as he could to help him get the kittens in there. There was a fair amount of scratching and hissing involved before she finally relented. When they were safely inside, he checked the collar on the cat and was mildly surprised to find there was an address listed with the phone number. That was just asking for trouble. He decided he would take the cats to them, in case the owners were complete shitbags - then he could go straight to an animal shelter if decided the cats deserved better.  
He looked at the map on his phone for a second then put it away. It really wasn’t that far out of his way. He looked at the cat in the box and she stared right back in that expressionless way that cats do. Somehow he still felt a pang of emotion. He just couldn’t leave them there.  
Montparnasse picked up the box, careful not to jostle them too much. And he started walking.  
When he arrived at the block of flats, someone was going through the front door already. 

“Hold it!” He called out, nodding his head down to the box in his arms. They held it open for him. 

“Thanks.” he hurried forward. The box was getting quite awkward to carry. He went up one set of stairs then found the door he was looking for. 

He hesitated for a moment outside, realising that his hands were full so he had to do a weird combination of headbutting the door, and sort of kneeing it and hitting it with his hip. He felt fucking ridiculous. The door opened and he nearly fell inside but righted himself before he could hurt the cats. 

“Hello.” The owner said, clearly incredibly confused. Montparnasse looked at them once he shifted the box to be more comfortable again. 

He was short and slight, with fluffy black hair. Oversized jumper. Round glasses.

Joly. And coming up behind him, Bossuet. 

Montparnasse bit back a groan of annoyance  
.  
“I’ve got your cat.” he nodded to the box in his hand. 

“Oh my god! You found him! Chetta!!” Joly called behind him, before turning back to the box and reaching inside. “You found Freddie Mercury! OH!”

“Yes.” Montparnasse replied, “Think you might have got something a bit wrong there.” 

“Oh goodness! Come in, come in!” Montparnasse grudgingly followed Joly into the flat, while Bossuet looked at him, looking absolutely shell-shocked. 

Musichetta came in from another room, staring openly at Montparnasse while she wiped her hands on a tea towel. He put the box on the floor of their living room area. They gathered round and stared at Freddie Mercury the cat, and her four kittens in the box. Freddie Mercury stared right back at them with a smug expression. 

“Well.” Joly said, with his hands on his hips. “This is unexpected. But manageable for now I think? What should we do first?”

“I think they need a bath.” Bossuet said, leaning a bit closer, “They smell pretty bad.” 

“Partly my fault.” Montparnasse admitted, realising that his hands were also on his hips as he surveyed the cats, “The blanket was the only vaguely soft thing I could find in the bin. It stinks though.”

Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta stared at him. Then they exchanged a look between themselves - one of those looks that only happens between romantically involved people, the kind where an entire conversation can happen in the blink of an eye. 

“So let me get this straight,” Musichetta began, while Montparnasse only had an overwhelming feeling of: oh shit here we go.

“You found these cats and decided to help them. You rummaged through a bin to find a box and something soft for them to sit on. And then you carried them here?”

“Sounds about right.” Montparnasse said simply. 

“Huh.” Was all the three of them could summon in reply. 

Montparnasse stared at the cats again. 

Joly recovered the fastest. 

“We ought to give them a little clean up, then take them to the vets, right?” 

The others nodded in agreement. 

Montparnasse was going to excuse himself. That would be a normal and in character for him. But then suddenly he was helping Joly and Musichetta give tiny little baths to tiny kittens while Freddie Mercury the cat watched over them and Bossuet called the vets. He had taken his jacket off and was elbow deep in water and flannels before he even realised what was really happening. The only salvation was that no one spoke to him while they worked. It was incredibly awkward, but Montparnasse couldn’t help feeling glad that he’d returned Freddie Mercury the cat to her owners. 

When they had dried the kittens and wrapped them in little tea towels, putting them in a proper, sturdier box, Joly noticed Montparnasse’s arms. 

“Oh!” He cried dramatically, “You’re hurt! I’m so sorry!” 

Montparnasse tried to tell him that it was alright, just Freddie Mercury the cat being territorial but Joly was already beside himself. He had fetched a first aid kit before Montparnasse could even finish his sentence. 

He reached out for Montparnasse’s arm with an antiseptic wipe and he flinched back.

“It’s alright. It’ll be cold and only sting a little bit.” 

“I know.” Montparnasse couldn’t keep the attitude from his voice. He really hated being patronised. “I’d just rather do it myself.” 

Joly still seemed hesitant. He didn’t reach any closer, but didn’t pass him the wipe. 

Montparnasse huffed. 

“I don’t like people touching me.” He explained, holding his hand out for the wipe and swiped at his arm without flinching, then reached for some plasters. 

Joly watched and hummed in agreement when Montparnasse placed them on correctly.  
Montparnasse rolled his eyes. Dinosaur plasters. He felt ridiculous. 

“I haven’t worn these since I was a kid.” he found himself admitting. Joly looked up at him through his glasses with an odd look on his face, while he cleared up the rest of the first aid kit. They were kneeling on the floor together. It was all very weird.

“While you were at the kid’s home with Feuilly?” Joly clearly thought he was being sly. Montparnasse patted down the anger and indignation that flared in his chest. It would not benefit any of them if Montparnasse lost his temper.

“Yes, probably.” he replied through gritted teeth. 

Joly stared at him, a little bit of fear creeping into his eyes. 

“Sorry. Shouldn’t bring it up. Do you want a cup of tea?” They both rose awkwardly and headed out of the bathroom. Bossuet had disposed of the foul smelling blanket and had sprayed air freshener around the room. 

“I should leave.” Montparnasse said, “You guys have this under control.”

“We’ll keep you updated about the vets! And send photos of the kittens!” Joly said happily. 

“Maybe you could have one of the kittens when they’re old enough to be rehomed?” Musichetta offered tentatively.

Montparnasse was going to say no. It would make sense to say no. They weren’t expecting him to agree. Instead what came out of his mouth was:

“Sure.” 

They seemed just as shocked as him.

“Oh! Alright!” Joly took a moment to have a brief silent conversation again, “Should we contact you through Eponine?”

Montparnasse wrinkled his nose. The thought of Eponine knowing that he’d had contact with her friends, that he’d inadvertently helped them while trying to never see them again, the thought of the smug look on her face, it all filled him with disgust. 

“God, no.” he replied, looking round for a piece of paper. He grabbed a pen and notebook from the counter top. “Look, just text me on here.” 

He scribbled his number down quickly. 

“But only in two months, if there’s a kitten ready to be picked up. I don’t want to know anything else. I categorically won’t reply if you text me about anything other than that.” 

Joly exchanged a smile with his significant others. Montparnasse narrowed his eyes. 

“I mean it.” he tried to sound threatening, but was incredibly aware of how soft he seemed right now. 

“Of course!” Joly said, beaming at him. 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was a Saturday and Montparnasse wasn’t working. He’d gone to sleep after receiving five photos of the kittens from Joly. That was considerably less than he was expecting, to be honest. However his dreams that night had been filled very specifically with cats dressed like the human Freddie Mercury and John Keats. He woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all, and feeling like he wanted to know more about the Romantic poets. It wasn’t because he was interested or anything, and it was definitely not because he wanted to speak to Jehan about them. He was just didn’t want another day like the previous, with Jehan talking his ear off because he didn’t know about something. That’s all it was. Definitely. 

So he snuck into the university library. 

Admittedly, he had no idea how to figure out the layout of the library. And he was lost within minutes but was adamantly refusing to ask for help. 

As he left one aisle to go into another, he fully collided with another person, to the extent that he actually felt a bit winded. He felt a bubble of annoyance rise. 

“Montparnasse?” Montparnasse turned to look at the person he’d knocked into. 

Tall. Hipster glasses. Sensible jumper. Book under arm. Combeferre. 

It took all of Montparnasse’s power to not scream FUCK very loudly in the quiet section of the library. 

“Yes. That’s me.” Montparnasse looked round, begging for some kind of distraction. 

Combeferre seemed to be at a loss for words. Montparnasse stared at him for a moment, feeling a bit deer-in-headlights-y. Then he saw the book that Combeferre was holding. He frowned, tilting his head to the side as he read the title. 

“Oh.” Montparnasse felt not at all present when the next words came out of his mouth, like he was watching someone else make stupid decisions from above, “I’ve read that.”

He’d later blame the tiredness. 

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the book. 

“Oh?” he wasn’t technically asking anything, but a lot could be hidden in the ‘oh’ of a person like Combeferre. 

Montparnasse bristled slightly. 

“You think I’m lying.” He snapped, raising his eyebrow right back. 

“Not at all.” Combeferre replied quickly, choosing his words carefully, “I just wasn’t aware that you’re a fan of Classical Studies.”

“Grantaire studied it. It’s impossible to not know about Classics when Grantaire is studying it.” Montparnasse answered coolly, “And I could say the same about you. I was told you were a science guy. Moths and such like.”

“Whoever told you that is mistaken,” Combeferre smiled warmly, “I’m an anything and everything guy.”

“Right.” He said, begging to be allowed to leave this weird conversation. 

“So how come you read the book when Grantaire was studying it?” Combeferre carried the fuck on anyway. 

“He wanted me to test him for his first year exams.”

Combeferre gave him a look that told him to continue. And well, Montparnasse just couldn’t help it. Maybe because Combeferre looked so much like that specific brand of hot-nerdy teacher that everyone would have a crush on, that you thought you could tell anything to.

“He tends to work better when people argue with him, and ask him questions. So I read some books.”

“That’s a good observation about Grantaire. It took us a while to realise that about him. Enjolras in particular thought Grantaire was being deliberately antagonistic during meetings. But discussions and arguments are how Grantaire works best.”

Montparnasse now felt even more like a child being complimented on a school report. He’d go home and write ‘good at observing’ on his fucking CV. 

Combeferre waited for Montparnasse to say something, which he didn’t. He couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over, to be quite honest. 

“You know,” Combeferre soldiered right on, “I’d be interested to hear your thoughts about the book. I would talk to Grantaire but he says he wouldn’t touch the Fall of the Republic with a barge-pole anymore.You could reread it if you have time, refresh your memory.”

“I don’t need to reread it.” Seriously, when would Montparnasse shut the fuck up. This was getting embarrassing, “I have a near photographic memory.”

“Is that so?” Combeferre smiled again and pushed his glasses further, looking at Montparnasse like he was a particularly interesting experiment. “In that case, do you have time now to tell me your thoughts?”

Montparnasse looked at his watch, and back at Combeferre. He’d never seen someone so obviously excited to hear what he had to say on an actual taught subject. Like Montparnasse could actually contribute something decent to the conversation. 

“Sure. I’ve got time to spare.”

Combeferre gestured to the nearest door with his whole arm. 

“After you.” He said kindly, “We can walk and talk.”

“Right. Well.” Montparnasse didn’t really know where to begin. “The author spends a while talking about what contemporary sources say. A lot of their arguments centered on moral deterioration but, let’s be honest here, there was moral deterioration for hundreds of years before the fall of the Republic. But it still tells us about the individual people and their thoughts. We only know what we know because we have access to so much information - they might be living it, but you simply don’t have the same ability that modern historians have to be able to find links between events, causes and effects and everything.” It was at this point that Montparnasse was trying to channel Jehan’s interest in everything they read, even if he and Grantaire both found the Fall of the Republic a bit dry. The words began to flow from him as he remembered both the book and countless conversations he’d had with Grantaire simultaneously, giving him a certain edge. He rambled on while Combeferre listened intently, going about his general library business that Montparnasse was hardly paying attention to. 

 

“....So that’s why I think he was right to agree with the idea that the Roman Republic wasn’t built to contain political figures like Caesar and Pompey. It had to fall, to then be rebuilt differently, to better serve the Roman world.”

“I absolutely agree.” Combeferre said, taking a sip of the coffee he’d brought at the uni cafe while Montparnasse continued to prattle on. “That was absolutely brilliant. It’s so nice to listen to people who are actually interested in the topic.”

“I really wouldn’t go that far.” Montparnasse replied, sensing where this was going. There was no way these talks with Combeferre would become a regular thing, “I have very little interest in it outside of what I learnt for Grantaire’s sake.”

“But you were in the Roman history section of the library?” 

“A mistake on my part. I was lost. Was actually looking for the Romantic poets.” He admitted, shrugging. 

“But you just spoke for half an hour about the book.”

“You asked me to.” 

Combeferre stared at him for several moments too long. Montparnasse began to feel uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry. I was under the impression that it was an area of interest for you.”

“No worries - really.” Montparnasse shrugged again. He really couldn’t give less of a shit anymore.

Combeferre stared again. Montparnasse felt like an animal being disected. 

“You know, Jehan loves the Romantics. I’m sure they’d be happy to discuss them with you” 

Combeferre was trying to keep his voice light and breezy, much like Joly when he’d asked about Feuilly and the kid’s home. 

Montparnasse unfortunately waited a few beats too long before responding with a lame “oh”, that wasn’t really a question so much as a random noise. 

And so Combeferre just raised an eyebrow at him. 

Montparnasse mumbled some kind of excuse and left.

He was really starting to get annoyed at these Amis. Certainly weren’t his fucking amis, he’d tell you that for nothing. A pain in his arse is what they were. He was bloody terrified of going anywhere. Couldn’t go to work without them there, couldn’t break into the university library, couldn’t return a cat and four unexpected kittens to their rightful owner. What a joke.  
Hopefully, there’d be no more cat rescuing now it had happened once. And he wouldn’t go to the library again, he’d find a niche bookshop or something. When he said he didn’t want to see any of them again, he didn’t realise he’d have to actively try to avoid them, if that made sense. He thought it would just happen naturally. He couldn’t have been more wrong, could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I actually live for grumpy, mysterious, criminal Montparnasse revealing that he's soft on the inside.  
> stay tuned for more and leave likes and comments!!


	5. i'm afraid to be near you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the coincidental meetings continue  
> also warning for the F slur  
> also chapter title comes from Death with Dignity by Sufjan Stevens.  
> please like and comment if you enjoy!! let me know what you want to see in the story as well!!

It only got worse from there. 

The last thing Montparnasse remembered was parting ways with Jehan at the end of their shift and heading back to the flat with the beginnings of a headache that he knew would be best to sleep off.   
Suddenly he was awoken by a loud incessant knocking on the front door. His shift had ended at a weird time and the kids weren’t supposed to be back from school yet. It definitely wasn’t them knocked. Montparnasse hauled himself off the sofa, stumbling to the door. He opened it, staring blurry-eyed at the figure in front of him. 

Short, curly hair, jazzy shirt.

Courfeyrac. 

He looks slightly more dishevelled than last time Montparnasse had seen him. His hair was more ruffled, like he’d been running his hands through the curls. His eyes were slightly red. 

“I’m so sorry,” He began, his voice shaking slightly, “Are Eponine or Grantaire in?”

“No.” Montparnasse shook his head, holding the door tightly to keep himself upright.   
Courfeyrac bit his lip, his eyes shining slightly more. 

“I’m sorry. My car just broke down and I tried to call Combeferre but my phone died almost immediately.” He held up his phone with it’s blank screen as proof. “Your guys’ flat was the closest. I didn’t really know what to do. It’s been a bit of a shitty day.” 

Montparnasse stared at him, the sleepy fog lifting slightly from his brain, helping him comprehend Courfeyrac’s situation more. 

“Come in.” He held the door open for a shocked Courfeyrac, “Charge your phone in the socket next to the sofa.”

As he followed Courfeyrac back into the flat he became incredibly aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing any trousers. Just a pair of black boxers and one of Grantaire’s faded t-shirts. 

“Oh.” He mumbled, rubbing his face, “I’ll go put some trousers on.”

Courfeyrac grinned at him as he walked away. 

Montparnasse stumbled into a pair of jeans - apparently unable to find the one’s he’d discarded before his nap - and walked back into the kitchen.

“I’m making coffee.” He flicked the kettle on, gesturing to a mug for Courfeyrac, who nodded and came to join him in the kitchen space. 

Courfeyrac sat on the counter top, facing Montparnasse who was leaning near the oven on the other side of the worktop. Montparnasse drank out of Eponine’s “World’s Okayest Bisexual” mug, while Courfeyrac warmed his hands on his mug instead. 

There was something unsaid hovering in the air and Montparnasse didn’t like it one bit. 

Courfeyrac seemed to be made of excitement, and was on the edge of blurting out something Montparnasse was sure he wouldn’t like. He decided to beat him at his own game.

“I can try to fix your car.” Montparnasse said suddenly.

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened before he smiled again. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

“Obviously.” Montparnasse rolled his eyes. “There should be a toolbox somewhere.”

They found the toolbox, with a few screwdrivers, some duct tape, a hammer, slightly oily scrap of rag. Fucking millenials. Whatever, it would do. 

Courfeyrac walked him to his car. Montparnasse hoped it would be silent, but Courfeyrac took the time to explain in detail everything that had happened on his drive. That included imitating the noise that the car made as it started smoking. Montparnasse ignored him for the most part. The quicker he fixed the car, the sooner Courfeyrac would be gone. Eponine would never have to know that he’d even set foot in the flat while she wasn’t there.

When they got to the car, Montparnasse popped the bonnet of the car up. He put the toolbox down on the ground by his feet and shrugged his jacket off. Courfeyrac decided that the opportune time to start talking again was when Montparnasse was halfway through checking the oil. And if Montparnasse hadn’t got the hint before - Courfeyrac never fucking shut up. 

“So!” He began, and Montparnasse physically held back a groan, “I heard that you found Freddie Mercury and four kittens up to no good in a dumpster? So you climbed in and rescued them and then carried them for miles to JBM’s house like a fireman?” 

Montparnasse scoffed and shook his head. 

“Not quite. It was hardly miles. And the cats weren’t in a dumpster, they were next to it. I only climbed in to get them a blanket.”

“Wow! That’s even more heroic than I thought!” Courfeyrac said excitedly. If he had longer hair, he’d be twirling it around his fingers and giggling. 

Montparnasse grunted and carried on messing about with the car. 

“Combeferre, my boyfriend, you know? He said that he bumped into you in the library and that you talked for ages about Roman history? Is that true? Eponine didn’t paint you as an academic like?”

Montparnasse huffed loudly and shrugged. Courfeyrac continued. 

“Well, Ferre said that he really enjoyed the discussion with you. And he loves people who are passionate about things!”

“I’m not passionate. I just have a good memory.”

“Yes, almost photographic, I know. Ferre mentioned it.”

“I can’t help but remember things and Combeferre just needed me to recite.”

“Well, that’s not how I heard it? Combeferre said he could hear your argument and Grantaire’s argument in what you were saying. He says you’d be a great academic.”

Montparnasse felt a small bubble of pride rise in him before he tamped it down quickly. He wiped his hands with the oily rag. 

“I’ve fixed it.”

“Really?!” Courfeyrac stared under the bonnet of the car. “What was wrong?” 

“This.” Montparnasse pointed to a wire. “This is the engine coolant reservoir. The wire leading from it had a small puncture. I’ve duct taped it. It’ll get you to the nearest garage now.” He slammed the bonnet down and they started to walk back to the flat to get Courfeyrac’s phone.

“You’re a man of many talents!” Courfeyrac squinted at him in the sunlight. 

“I worked part time as a car mechanic when I was younger.” 

“Is that so? Feuilly didn’t mention that?”

“We met when we were eight so obviously it wasn’t then.” Montparnasse snapped, “Car mechanic was early to mid R and Ep era.”

“So when did you leave Feuilly?”

“He left me.” Montparnasse replied automatically, “Actually, let’s just drop it.”

He hoped the tone of his voice would scare Courfeyrac into not talking. It did not. 

“Why don’t you like talking about him?”

Montparnasse stopped and glared at Courfeyrac. 

“I said drop it.” 

Courfeyrac lifted his hands in surrender. 

“Just know that you can always talk to one of us if you’d like. We won’t tell Feuilly.”

“Oh, I definitely believe that.”

Courfeyrac actually laughed at that and then agreed to drop the subject.

Montparnasse let them both into the flat. Courfeyrac grabbed his phone. He was texting people, and then he sighed and perched on the edge of the sofa. Montparnasse could see right through him - all his bravado was a cover. Montparnasse had some experience with that. 

“You mentioned you had a shitty day.” Montparnasse glanced at Courfeyrac while collecting the mugs. 

Courfeyrac looked at him, and rubbed his arm with a fidgety hand. 

“Oh you know, just some guy at work.” 

Montparnasse hummed as he pottered around to show he was listening, that Courfeyrac could continue. 

“He...er… well he called me a faggot in front of everyone. It’s silly to get upset about it, and he’s not even in my department… I don’t know, the whole car thing just tipped me over the edge.” 

“It’s not silly.” Montparnasse stood in front of Courfeyrac with his arms crossed. “I assume the guy has a name and address.” 

“Oh, it’s just some guy, honestly.” Courfeyrac smiled at him, “I’ll be over it by tomorrow. Haters gonna hate and all that!” 

Montparnasse reached his hand out for Courfeyrac’s phone. He just stared at him, confused. 

“I’m putting my number in.” Montparnasse explained, whipping the phone out of Courf’s hands. “If you happen to remember the guy’s name or address, just send me a message and I’ll deal with it.”

Courfeyrac looked like he was about to explode at the thought of having Montparnasse’s number. Montparnasse had heard what he was like with texting. More than double texting, hundreds of messages would pop up in an evening on Grantaire’s phone. He vaguely regretted his choice. 

“Only text me about that. I won’t answer about anything else.”

“Aye aye captain.” Courfeyrac saluted him sarcastically. 

Montparnasse glared at him. 

“Seriously, though, thank you. You didn’t have to do this. And you didn’t have to fix my car. It means a lot that you did. In fact I was half expecting you to shut the door in my face. You’re a good person, Montparnasse.”

“Ok, time’s up. Get out.” 

“Yep! Yep, I’m leaving!”

Courfeyrac practically skipped out of the room. 

Montparnasse rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. He went to the sink and washed his grimy hands, trying to remember the last time someone had called him a good person. He thought that that actually might have been the first time. How sad was that?

\------------------------------------

Two days later found Montparnasse walking through town after his shift ended. Jehan had told him that the Amis were planning something for their birthday. It was in a few days. Obviously Montparnasse had to get them something. They were work colleagues. That’s what work colleagues of a few weeks did.   
So what he really wanted was a book about Romanticism or art. But Jehan talked about them so much it would be difficult to find a book so obscure that Jehan hadn’t already read it. He knew there was a second hand bookshop near where they worked, where Jehan got the majority of their books and paintings and things.   
Montparnasse found it easily. He hesitated as he put a hand to the door and pushed it open. He was immediately hit with that very specific ‘old book’ smell. The shelves were full of books with yellowing pages, the floor covered in precarious stacks. It was wonderfully quiet, just a few other people in there. Montparnasse wandered through the shelves, twisting his neck to get a look at the names on the spine, touching them gently. 

“Hello! Can I help you?” An enthusiastic and slightly familiar voice spoke from next to him.   
Montparnasse righted himself. 

Nerdy reading glasses. Floppy hair. Freckles. It could only be Marius. 

“Oh! Hello Montparnasse!” 

Montparnasse nodded back at him. 

“Obscure poetry.” He blurted out, slightly panicking. 

Marius looked confused for a moment. Then he smiled.

“Ok!” He replied dopily. “What kind of obscure?” 

Montparnasse was hit with an idea. 

“Female poets.” 

If there was anything Jehan loved more than Romantic poets, it was women taking back control, dominating an industry that was somehow both ridiculed for being feminine, while the majority of people who rule it are men. Jehan understood the idea of a powerful woman. Or something like that. 

“Any specific era?” Marius was already walked away. Montparnasse followed him. 

“Surprise me.” 

Marius led him to an entire aisle of books under a sign that read: ‘WOMEN’. 

“So this is the women’s section. And I’ve organised it chronologically rather than alphabetically. You get more of a feel of the movement of poetry over time then. If that makes sense.”

“Sure.” Montparnasse squinted at the books again. He reached out within seconds. 

“‘Classical Women Poets.’” He muttered under his breath. 

“That’s really good!” Marius said, “I’ve been nagging Jehan to read it for yonks. I borrowed it from the library before we had it stocked here but they didn’t get a chance to read it before I had to return it. Oh, Jehan is one of the amis that you met.” Marius started to explain, thinking that Montparnasse didn’t know Jehan well. “Curly hair, fan of Romanticism and strong women. They’re my flatmate! I think everyone was really surprised when we moved in together after Uni because we seem quite different. But we actually get on so well! Our flat is just full of plants and books, it’s amazing. Oh goodness, I’m really rambling now.”

Montparnasse stared at him, frankly a bit too terrified to say anything else, in case it prompted Marius to start talking again. He looked at the book in his hands, and flicked through the first few pages - Sappho. Brilliant lady. Corinna. Erinna. This was perfect. 

“I’ll get it. Thanks.” He started walking towards the till, ignoring Marius’ slightly disappointed expression. He thought that Jehan was missing out. He thought Montparnasse was stealing a book that Jehan would read eventually. If only he knew. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

Eponine asked him to go food shopping. Montparnasse wrote a shopping list with Gavroche and Azelma when they got back from school. He noticed that they had snuck a few things on the list when he wasn’t looking. He knew they didn’t need doughnuts and sugar puffs and dairylea dunkers and Eponine would probably kill him if he got them but whatever. The kids were great - maybe he’d treat them. By accident of course.   
So Montparnasse, nearly done with the weekly shop, trolley almost full, remembered that he needed to get some painkillers for Eponine. He made his way to the medicine aisle and reached for a box. When he stood up, someone crashed right into him and he stumbled. He turned round, ready to throw hands immediately. 

Tall (but not as tall as him), muscley, colourful tank-top, man-bun. Who else but Bahorel?

And even worse, he was holding two packs of condoms. 

Feuilly’s boyfriend was holding two packs of condoms.

Montparnasse scrunched up his nose, wincing. He really didn’t need to be picturing that. 

“Oh, sorry, Montparnasse. Didn’t see ya there!” Bahorel tried to act cool and suave. 

“Clearly.” Montparnasse huffed as he chucked the painkillers into the trolley. 

Bahorel stared at him, still clutching the condoms. 

“Have you talked to Feuilly recently?” Bahorel said suddenly. Straight for the jugular, then. 

Alright, Montparnasse could deal with this. 

“No. I feel like you know that already, though.” Montparnasse still couldn’t quite believe the gall of this man that he’d met precisely once. Feuilly’s boyfriend or not, he had no right to be talking to Montparnasse about this. Apparently he was still going to try. 

“He’s pretty bummed out, you know?” Bahorel continued. 

“Ok.” Montparnasse really, really wanted to leave. But something about the way that Bahorel held himself let him know that it wouldn’t be easy. He would definitely make a scene. 

Montparnasse didn’t particularly want to have a punch up in the middle of his shop. He hadn’t even paid for everything yet. Couldn’t they do this in the car park after he’d put all the bags in the boot? That would be better for everyone involved. 

“It difficult when he’s sad. Especially when I know what the problem is but can’t do anything to resolve it.” Montparnasse couldn’t help but feel that Bahorel’s voice had taken on a slightly threatening tone. Montparnasse just raised his eyebrows innocently. 

“It’s you. Obviously. He wants you to talk to him. He won’t ask though. Maybe if you spoke to him about what’s bothering you -”

“Ok. Stop now.” Montparnasse held up a hand and glared. 

Bahorel continued right on, like a battering ram made of bitchy comments. 

“You know, I’ve seen a photo of you guys when you were younger. You were happy kids? Feuilly looked like a ginger version of all the Beatles rolled into one, but that’s besides the point right now. Although we can come back to it at a later date.”

Montparnasse couldn’t help a small scoff.

“You were happy, right? Feuilly said your care home was good and that you guys were inseparable. He can’t understand what he’s done wrong. It’s upsetting him. You’ve been back for a while now and you’ve not tried to contact him since the first night. You didn’t even look at him when you came in with Gav and Azelma.”

Montparnasse was beginning to get more than annoyed. He could feel anger bubbling under his skin. 

“Listen. Obviously Feuilly would say that we were happy. I made sure he was. He made me promise.” Montparnasse snapped. 

“Why?” 

Montparnasse hesitated for a second. 

“I don’t know his original motive. But you best believe I kept that promise until the day he left. In a perfect world, he would just be thankful and leave it at that. We’re grown ups. I don’t have to talk to him if I don’t want to. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Bahorel stared at him. It was the most he’d ever said in his presence. Normally Montparnasse kept to his character of being a man of few, although blunt, words. 

“Ok.” Bahorel shrugged, “Be like that. But Feuilly’s hurting, so don’t expect me to be on your side in this. He says you’ve got all the other photos. Maybe when you’ve got over your issues, you can show them to him. That would cheer him up. Unless you’ve burned them, of course.”

And with that, Bahorel turned on his heel and stomped off in his big Doc Martens. Montparnasse shook his head in disbelief. Now he was being accosted in the fucking supermarket. What on earth was happening to his life?


	6. maybe i just need a change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently I needed to dedicate a whole chapter to Montparnasse meeting Cosette and Valjean properly  
> chapter title is from 2 atoms in a molecule by NOAH and the Whale!  
> please like and comment!!!! thank you if you've made it this far!

One part of his job at the cafe that Montparnasse had been able to ignore up until this point was Cosette. She was excellent friends with Jehan and she had already popped in several times for a ‘catch-up’. Apparently two meetings a week wasn’t enough for her.   
Twice (twice!) she had come in to get flowers for her father - Jean Valjean - and Montparnasse had to serve her. Their conversations were usually limited to her flower order, although one time before one of her ‘catch-ups’ with Jehan, they had got dangerously close to talking about the weather but Jehan had distracted her by talking about a new plant, and led her away quickly, winking at Montparnasse behind her back. Completely unrelated to that, Montparnasse had snapped a lever off the coffee machine.   
Annoyingly, Cosette had also got coffee with Jehan during their lunch break, leaving Montparnasse with no one to pretend to ignore for an hour.   
But mostly Cosette was polite and ignored him like he wanted, perhaps respecting the fact the he couldn’t exactly run away during his shift. He wished other people respected that. Flowers and coffee shouldn’t be so popular, especially in the same room.  
Cosette also clearly hadn’t spread it round the group that he worked with Jehan. He’d hate to have to move jobs so soon when floods of Amis came in to bother him. Now he thought about it, he was surprised that Enjolras hadn’t let it slip either - he had seen him on his first day, after all. It explained his confusion - it was more than just seeing Montparnasse in a place he didn’t expect him, but also not seeing Jehan in a place they were expected to be in.   
Anyway, interesting that he hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t bother to wonder why. There was no point guessing the logic of the Amis.   
While thinking about this, Montparnasse left the shop, saying a short goodbye to Jehan and walking in the other direction. He was strolling through the town centre, not massively paying attention to his surroundings, caught up in replaying Jehan winking at him. A small something thudded onto his foot and he stopped. 

A purse. 

He grabbed it and skipped forward quickly to catch up with the people in front of him, walking arm in arm. 

“Excuse me. You’ve dropped this.” He swerved round in front of them, making them stop abruptly. “Oh. It’s you.”

No need to say who it was. Cosette smiling sweetly back at him, reaching for the purse and thanking him. The man next to her, Valjean, presumably, gave him a once over. He couldn’t help feeling slightly judged by this old man. He looked rather normal to Montparnasse, dressed in a sensible shirt and trousers, with a white beard and neatly parted fluffy grey hair. But Montparnasse had been warned by Eponine not to get on the wrong side of him and he definitely knew not to judge by appearances. 

“Have we met, son?” Valjean asked politely, reaching his hand out for Montparnasse to shake.   
He took it reluctantly, grimacing. 

He was tempted to never leave the flat again, if this is where it got him.

“I doubt it.” He replied stonily, “The only way you’d know me is through the Amis, though I make a point of staying away from them.”

“I’ve heard you’ve done a rubbish job at keeping away from us, actually.” Cosette piped up, crossing her arms in front of her. 

Montparnasse glared at her in response. All this time in the flower shop and she’d never sassed him. Why now? She began a list of things that Montparnasse was pretending hadn’t happened in the past couple of weeks. 

“Returning JBM’s cat and kittens to them? Late night talks with Combeferre? Fixing Courf’s car? Asking Marius for books? I don’t even need to mention the fact that you work with Jehan.”

“Then don’t mention it.” Montparnasse snapped, growing increasingly tense. “It’s not my fault you guys are stalking me. I can’t go anywhere without bumping into one or five of you.”

“And yet you haven’t seen Feuilly yet?” Cosette cocked her head innocently, smiling that sweet, but vicious smile. 

The absolute gall of this woman, honestly. 

Montparnasse said nothing. He just stared at Cosette. She clearly thought she was being a sly fucker. 

“Come on dear, you’re making the poor lad uncomfortable.” Valjean reached out to grasp Montparnasse’ shoulder and he flinched back instinctively. Valjean held his hands up apologising. 

Montparnasse didn’t really want to explain. The more people he got mixed up with, the more often he had to explain that he didn’t like people touching him. That was one of the reasons he hated being round the Amis. They didn’t know the unspoken rules like Eponine and Grantaire did. On the days he could stand it, they were there with hugs aplenty. He could stomach the small touches from them, when squished together on the sofa, shoulders bumping, heads on each other’s shoulders while they watched films. He and Grantaire would often nap together and wake up cuddling. It just took time. Which people didn’t understand unless he had a long conversation with them. The thought of that with any of the Amis made him want to barf right there. 

So he stared Valjean down silently. 

“We’re going for a walk around the lake, if you’d like to join us?” Valjean offered. 

Montparnasse was ready to say no but then he realised that it was kind of on his way home. They would be walking in the same direction for a large portion of the journey and walking the same way but not together would be even more annoying and awkward than politely putting up with them for fifteen minutes. 

“Sure.” He slid into place on the pavement next to Cosette. 

She didn’t seem confused like the other Amis did when he acquiesced on something. He plodded along with them, listening to them talk about their day. He learned that Valjean owned a bakery. Apparently his bread was to die for. 

Valjean would direct questions at him. Nothing that required a massively long answer. Just polite questions. Montparnasse found himself giving up answers freely. Yes, I work in the flower shop. Yes, same as Jehan. Purely a coincidence. No, I’m not friends with the Amis. I’m friends with Eponine and Grantaire. 

“Oh I love those two!” Valjean blurted out, making Montparnasse jump. 

“I wasn’t aware you’d met.” Montparnasse immediately realised this opened the conversation up further. He could have slapped himself. 

“Of course I have. I’ve met all of the group. Brilliant people doing fantastic work. And Eponine is such a lovely young lady. She’s been over for tea a number of times. They all have actually. We have a Christmas dinner every year now, for anyone with nowhere else to go.”

“That’s...nice.” Montparnasse didn’t really know how to respond. 

“It’s really nice. Eponine and Grantaire have been the past few years. Gav and Azelma too.” Cosette chipped in. 

“Oh, Gavroche is a wonderful young man, isn’t he?” Valjean peered round Cosette to look at Montparnasse. “He used to terrorise the neighbourhood on his bike before it broke. It was such a relief when Eponine found him again.”

“Actually, Dad, it was Montparnasse who found Gav and Azelma.” 

Valjean looked at him. They were making their way round the small lake now, Montparnasse looked at the ducks instead of Valjean. He couldn’t help feeling scrutinized. 

“Eponine told me how difficult it would be to get them back. I was ready to barge in and get them myself but she said she had no idea where they were.” 

“Well, I have my methods.” Montparnasse replied. 

“And you weren’t hurt were you, son?” 

Montparnasse looked at both of them, confused. Valjean had literally just met him. He had no reason to care about him. 

“Nothing major.” He shrugged. 

Valjean pursed his lips and tutted at Montparnasse. He felt an odd need to defend his actions.

“Eponine needed the kids back. It didn’t matter if I got hurt.” He found he couldn’t look at Cosette, who was still arm in arm with Valjean. He was afraid of what he’d find in their faces. He was afraid that she’d repeat this conversation back to Eponine. 

“Son. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger just to help other people.” 

Montparnasse scrunched up his nose and shook his head. 

“Not in my experience.” 

Valjean said nothing. Cosette stared ahead, frowning. Montparnasse carried on walking along with them in silence. At least no one was asking annoying questions. 

“Would you like to come for dinner at our house?” Cosette asked, breaking the silence. “Dad’s made pie and I can guarantee we won’t be able to finish it ourselves.”

A simple ‘no thank you’ would be the sensible, on-brand reply for Montparnasse. He had no reason to continue these conversations or hear anymore about Valjean’s bakery. Especially given the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken. 

But at the same time, he didn’t think he’d ever been invited round someone’s house for pie. Not even Eponine and Grantaire had done that. There was something about the simple, wholesome, familial feel of the offer that stirred something in Montparnasse. 

As if possessed, Montparnasse found himself saying yes, and making his way with Cosette and her father to their house. How alarming.

He hadn’t really known how these recent incidents with the Amis had happened at the time but it was becoming steadily clearer to him. It was his own stupidity.   
Or perhaps it was some weird gremlin that lived in the back of his brain that, rather than going batshit crazy after midnight, instead spontaneously said yes to things it shouldn’t do and ruined Montparnasse’s reputation that he’d spent years crafting. Yes, that was a more reasonable explanation than him being a complete idiot. 

And so suddenly Montparnasse was sitting around a table, being served feta and red onion pie by Cosette’s dad. If he were in a film, there would be a record scratch and a teenager (who was actually played by a 25 year old) would cut in and say, “you’re probably wondering how I got here!”. 

Montparnasse tried replaying the events in his head but came up blank. Sure, he could remember everything, but it just seemed so uncharacteristic of him that he could hardly believe it had happened. Maybe Cosette and her father were fairies. Once he ate their food he’d be trapped in their house. He ought to let Eponine and Grantaire know that, oh, sorry, won’t be back for dinner, or ever in fact, have been kidnapped by Jean Valjean the Baker, possibly a member of the Fae. 

Montparnasse shook his head, bringing himself back to the present, and started eating the pie. It was a damn good pie. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if he never had to leave.   
Over the course of that meal, Valjean decided to share some of his and Cosette’s life story. It turned out that Cosette lived with the Thenardiers when she was younger, before Montparnasse had met Eponine. He was not surprised that her memories of that time were ‘best not dwelt upon’, in the words of Valjean.   
Valjean, had adopted Cosette to apparently pay a debt to her mother, who he had known in some roundabout way. What an odd man. 

“Seems a funny reason to adopt someone. Repayment of a debt.” Montparnasse’s tone was biting. 

“That was poorly worded by me.” Valjean admitted, taking a sip of his drink, “Not repayment. More, honouring a memory.” 

Montparnasse nodded like he understood. He didn’t really.

“Cosette tells me that you and Feuilly were in the care system?” Valjean prompted. 

“Mmm.” Montparnasse glared at Cosette, wondering not for the first time that evening, how he got himself in these situations, “That appears to be popular gossip at the moment.”

“Did the both of you get adopted? I understand that older kids have a harder time of it.”

“Feuilly did. I didn’t.”

“That’s such a shame.” 

“Not really. It was meant to be me.” Montparnasse appeared to have no control over his admittance. “But I told them to choose Feuilly instead.”

“I didn’t know that?” Cosette said, frowning. 

“No one does.” 

Silence again. Cosette had paused with her fork halfway to her mouth to stare openly at him. 

Montparnasse found he was beginning to enjoy this. Shocking people into silence could become quite a fun pastime the way he was headed. 

“I assume it worked out for Feuilly in the end. I wasn’t exactly given a phone number so couldn’t check up on him.” Montparnasse tried to sound sarcastic, but it flopped. 

“Why do you care?” Cosette said, sounding genuinely interested, “He says you don’t speak to him now.”

“It would be nice to know that my efforts weren’t wasted.” 

“Maybe you can ask Feuilly, instead of us. He’d love to talk to you.”

“Yes, as people keep reminding me.”

“Shall we drop this topic, hm?” Valjean stopped them as Montparnasse began to get tense again. He was suddenly aware of how tightly he was gripping his knife. 

“Apologies. Much like Cosette, I don’t like talking about my childhood and unfortunately Feuilly is a part of that.” 

“That’s fine, Montparnasse. We’re sorry for making you uncomfortable. No more questions about Feuilly, right Cosette?” Valjean raised his eyebrows at her. 

She nodded and mumbled an apology into her now empty plate. 

Montparnasse just frowned at them both, not entirely sure whether to trust Valjean’s words. 

He helped Cosette clear the table - which was weird in itself - and then offered to do the washing up too. He washed up and Cosette dried up. She chatted to him about normal things, which Montparnasse much prefered. He was on firmer ground during small talk. She asked him if he liked his job, whether he preferred the flowers or the coffee, then she said he could always join her and Jehan during lunch breaks. He just nodded and thanked her, but didn’t accept or decline her offer. When they were done, he also declined a cup of tea from Cosette and walked with her to the hallway. 

“This has been incredibly weird.” He said to her, shaking her hand, “But thank you, I think.”

“No problem!” she replied happily, “You can honestly come over anytime. It’s nice to get to know people outside of the big group, you know?”

Montparnasse found he had no words to reply to that. He just nodded and frowned at her. He was about to leave when Valjean came up to them both. 

“Son, don’t worry, I’ll give you a lift!” He swung his car keys around. 

“It’s fine, sir, I can walk.” Montparnasse tried to politely decline. The formalities slipped out quite by accident.

“I insist. It’s getting dark outside. I’ve given Eponine and Grantaire lifts home before. I won’t bite.” He smiled calmly at Montparnasse. 

Montparnasse got in the passenger side after waving at Cosette. 

He sat in silence for most of the car ride, his hands resting on his knees, staring straight ahead, but with Valjean always in his periphery. Finally, Valjean broke the silence.

“Now, I’m not going to ask you anything about Feuilly. But I do think there’s more going on with that situation than you’re letting on.” 

Montparnasse stayed silent. He was starting to feel a bit numb, like when you’re trying to move your arm and your brain whispers “move” at your arm but it just stays still and feels tingly at the elbow. A very specific feeling, but that’s what Montparnasse was beginning to feel. Except his head wasn’t whispering, it was yelling “Move you BASTARD!” very loudly while Valjean continued to talk to him. 

“The Amis - they’re lovely. But they’re still young. I’ve heard that you’re getting a lot of flack about the whole Feuilly situation, I’ll ask Cosette to help reign it in, without going into specifics.”

“Specifics?” Montparnasse couldn’t help but ask. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. But something happened when you were a child. And I’ll bet it has something to do with how you’ve managed to be out of arm’s reach of me the entire evening.” 

Montparnasse shuffled further over towards the door slightly, tensing. 

“This is what I mean about the Amis. They’re good people but the majority of them lack certain life experiences which makes it hard for them to empathise in some situations. I think they’re worried about Feuilly and taking it out on you. But they don’t understand that you don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to. As long as you’re not endangering yourself or others, you don’t have to explain yourself yet.” 

Montparnasse looked at Valjean, incredibly confused. Was this what therapy was like? Was that what was happening here? He ate their food and was entitled to a free counselling session? That being said, it was comforting to have someone on his side for once. Someone who didn’t demand an explanation. 

“Although, frankly, you’d be dumb to waste an opportunity like the Amis. People like them come by once in a blue moon. They’re kind, they help people, even in their own ranks. I’ve seen it. With Cosette. With Eponine and Grantaire. Those kids were complete messes a few years ago. Cosette had some choice words about you then as well. But that’s by-the-by. These kids, they bring out the best in people. They’re a family that’s always willing to welcome more people. You’d do well to stick with them, or at least not push them away as much.”

It took Montparnasse a while to realise that Valjean had finished there, and also that they had pulled up outside the flat. He didn’t really know what to think. He’d had half a free therapy session without having to open his mouth. Valjean had laid out parts of Montparnasse that he normally tried to keep so well hidden. The bright lights of the street lamps seemed instead to be a dozen desk lamps blinding him while he was being interrogated. 

“Thank you. I think?” Montparnasse mumbled. He felt a bit dazed. He looked at Valjean.

“I’m sorry for Cosette’s questioning.” Valjean smiled at him, “Feel free to come and visit anytime, now you know where we live. It was a pleasure to have you over tonight. And know that you can talk to me whenever you need to.”

Montparnasse said thank you again and climbed out of the car. Valjean waited patiently until he walked through the door of the flat building then he drove away. Montparnasse climbed the stairs and numbly let himself into the flat. Grantaire was sitting on the sofa, eating popcorn with one hand, and sipping from a two litre bottle of coke with the other. He was watching reruns of Friends. 

“You alright mate?” He called out, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. “You weren’t in for dinner?” 

“Yeah,” Montparnasse replied, gazing around the room, feeling a bit lost, “I was having dinner with Cosette and Valjean.”

Grantaire choked on his drink, spitting it across the coffee table in front of him. 

“What?!”

“Yeah. I know. I’m confused as to how it happened as well. One minute I’m giving Cosette her purse that she dropped on the floor, the next I’m walking around a lake and then eating feta and red onion pie.” Montparnasse came and hovered next to the sofa, perching on the arm. 

“Oh man!” Grantaire tutted and snapped his fingers, “He made you the feta pie?! That’s my favourite.”

“It was delicious.” Montparnasse replied. “Don’t tell Eponine. This isn’t the first weird coincidental meeting I’ve had with the Amis. Your annoying fucking friends are everywhere, I swear.” 

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that bro.” Grantaire lifted the massive bottle and Montparnasse fist-bumped it lightly. “They’re like the mafia or something. Once you’re in, you can never leave.”

“But I’m not in! I was never in!” Montparnasse whined, flopping from the arm of the sofa onto the cushion next to Grantaire, grabbing a handful of popcorn. 

“Oh hun,” Grantaire smiled at him, “You’ve had dinner at Valjean’s. You’re one of us whether you like it or not.”

Well, that was an ominous way to end his evening.


	7. there will come a time when you will need your friends tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montparnasse and Eponine talk over pancakes, something happens and Montparnasse needs to go to the Amis for help.  
> chapter title comes from noah and the whale - there will come a time!  
> please like and comment !

It was just before 7 in the morning and Montparnasse was making pancakes. Part of him was wondering how his life had turned out like this, but the most part of him was just standing there, contentedly whisking batter in a bowl while wearing a pair of Grantaire’s tartan pyjama pants that he’d cut and rolled up into shorts and the faded Queen t-shirt that also used to belong to Grantaire. The key phrase being ‘used to’. He would never wear their clothes outside of the flat - he had a very particular style that did not involve Eponine’s high-waisted skinny jeans and crop tops, or Grantaire’s wide variety of paint stained t-shirts, but there was something comforting about these pyjamas. 

Eponine watched him from the countertop where she clutched a coffee. He prodded at the first pancake halfheartedly. 

“Montparnasse?”

It was too early for this. He rolled his eyes and replied to Eponine in a snarky voice. 

“Yeees.” 

“Do you think now you’ve got a routine with work and you’ve had a break from the Amis for a while, you’d go back to another meeting?” 

Montparnasse scoffed. A break from the Amis? If only she knew that they hounded him at every step since he last saw them. He’d had more of a break from Eponine and Grantaire if he was honest than he’d had from the Amis. 

She misunderstood his scoff. 

“Right, no problem.” She took a sip of her coffee, “I just assumed you’d mellowed slightly.” 

He turned around, spatula in hand, to glare at her. He raised an eyebrow.

“Mellowed.” he repeated, unsure that he’d heard her correctly. 

“You literally got up early to make the kids pancakes.”

“Yeah, and? That doesn’t mean I’ve mellowed.” 

“You’ve used a novelty cookie cutter to make them dinosaur shaped?” Eponine pointed at the growing pile next to Montparnasse. He stared at the pile, then back at her.

“...Ohh-kay. Fair point.” 

“Well then, seeing as you agree that you’ve mellowed, you could always give the Amis a second chance? You don’t have to like them, just tolerate them? It’s important to have people you can count on! Besides me and R, you know? And it’ll give you something to do. Also they all ask after you a weird amount? It’s getting kind of annoying so you’d make my life easier if you came to meetings.”

Montparnasse turned around again, leaning on the kitchen counter. He scrutinised Eponine, who just finished her coffee silently, then smiled at him expectantly. 

“I’m not making any promises but I think I can manage to tolerate them. I might go along to a meeting in a couple of weeks.” 

Then he could ask Joly about the potential kitten he had been promised. Joly sent him a photo a day of the little terrors, although Montparnasse had yet to actually reply. Maybe Montparnasse could take Azelma and Gavroche over there to choose a kitten. If Musichetta was being serious about the offer. He wouldn’t tell Gav and Azelma yet, he wouldn’t want to get their hopes up. He turned back to the frying pan. 

“Montparnasse?”

“Good lord!” Montparnasse turned round again, “What?” 

Eponine at least had the decency to look sheepish at her incessant questioning. 

“I’m worried about the rent. What will happen to Gavroche and Azelma when the landlord finds out?”

“I’m confused about what you think he’s finding out.” Montparnasse was pouring batter into the dinosaur cookie cutter on the frying pan. 

“That Gav and Azelma are here? That’s way more people than should be in a three bedroom flat.” 

“Oh, he already knows they’re here.” 

“What?!”

“Calm your tits, Eponine. I sorted it. Told him the day they got here. He’s fine with it as long as you, me and R pay the rent on time and the kids are safe. He knows that utility bills are going to be going up, so he’s nice enough to not raise the rent.” 

“What the fuck?!” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Were you charming or terrible?” Eponine asked, narrowing her eyes at him over her coffee cup. 

“Oh I pulled out all the charm. Bit of a waste actually, turns out he actually loves the weird little sprogs and was happy to help.” 

“Oh.” Eponine put her mug down, frowning, “He’s met them? And he likes them?”

“Yeah, surprised me too.”

After a few minutes of silence, Montparnasse clicked the gas off and dumped the frying pan in the sink. He brought the plate of dinosaur pancakes over to the counter and grabbed a few. 

“Is that M&M chocolate spread?” Eponine pointed with her knife at the jar. 

“Yeah. Went shopping the day after pay day, while hungry.”

“Oof.” Eponine snatched the jar from him and dolloped a hefty amount on her pancakes. “That’s two mistakes in one go.”

“Oh believe me, I know.” 

Montparnasse couldn’t help but feel the morning had been a bit surreal. He hadn’t slept well and no doubt that would come back to bite him in the arse later. But he hadn’t made pancakes in forever and wanted to do something for the kids since he was already awake. He found the cookie cutters in the back of a cupboard and got to work. Eponine was a light sleeper too and woke up at the sound of him clattering around in the kitchen. They both knew not to wake the kids and Grantaire until they’d eaten their fair share because otherwise they’d get nothing.   
And while making dinosaur shaped pancakes, Eponine had asked him about rent and he’d talked about utility bills of all the things. Was this what your mid twenties consisted of? Somehow toeing the line between a functioning adult and an incapable child at the same time? He hoped it would all get a bit more manageable. Most of the time he felt he was hallucinating his life. He did work in a joint flower shop and cafe. He would never get over the absurdity of that.   
Eponine and Grantaire were both going to the Amis fun Friday meeting that night, so Montparnasse would look after the kids once he got back from work. Not that they really needed looking after, being 14 and 12. They would just sit in front of the TV for hours not doing their homework while he cooked them dinner.   
He felt a bit like he needed to do something a bit bad to make up for the good stuff he’d done this morning. It was only pancakes, but it was out of character for him. He was feeling out of sorts. The other day, after Montparnasse put salt in the drink of a man who shouted at Jehan, they had described him as ‘chaotic good’ which Montparnasse hadn’t understood at first. Jehan explained that Montparnasse meant well and wanted to do good things (which he resented. Montparnasse didn’t do good things), but his methods were often frowned upon to say the least. And well, Montparnasse couldn’t argue with that part at least. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Montparnasse was running late. Work had been surprisingly busy. The shop had been late to close and while he sent Jehan home on time, he actually needed to be home for the kids soon. Eponine and Grantaire would only want to be fashionably late to the Amis meet-up, rather than full on late. But Montparnasse wouldn’t run. He’d go for a half-hearted speed walk if Eponine actually text him to hurry. He was starting to get one of his bad headaches and he was in no fit state to start running.   
He was walking past the alleyway he had found Freddie Mercury the cat when he heard a commotion. He could hear shouting. Very specific words that made his stomach flip in anger. He stopped and strode into the alleyway. Four teenagers standing up, one boy crumpled on the floor, hands shielding his face from their boots.   
“What the fuck are you doing?” He marched forward, fists clenched at his side. Knives forgotten somewhere in the flat when he’d left, already exhausted for work that morning.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Eponine and Grantaire were running late, waiting for Montparnasse to come home so the kids wouldn’t be alone for too long. Grantaire had sent Enjolras a grumpy text saying that they could start without them - they would leave soon if Montparnasse didn’t show up. Jehan told everyone that the shop had been late closing up, and that Montparnasse probably left about half an hour after them. It was now common knowledge that Jehan and Montparnasse worked together among some of the Amis. According to Enjolras, he didn’t think Grantaire and Eponine had any idea yet. The reasons for Montparnasse not telling them eluded everyone. They just took it to be another one of Montparnasse’s quirks. A general sort of secrecy that elusive figures like Montparnasse needed.   
Jehan found that once you got to know Montparnasse, he was really quite different to how Eponine and Grantaire had portrayed him. Grantaire had said “he’ll eat you alive”, which he certainly looked capable of doing, and sure, he was definitely morally dubious. He had technically kidnapped Gavroche and Azelma from their parents but all to keep them safe while obtaining many injuries himself. The kids had mentioned a baseball bat, and when Montparnasse left, Gavroche had done a dramatic reenactment while Azelma looked on nodding sagely. It was less kidnapping, and more rescuing in Jehan’s opinion. Regardless of how it was viewed, it was agreed amongst them that Montparnasse had done everyone a massive favour in getting the kids back, even if his methods were different to what they were used to.  
He wasn’t the most talkative and he had been practically monosyllabic when he first met Jehan, and again when they first started working together. He had often said at the beginning that Jehan could talk while they worked but that he wouldn’t listen. Then a week or so later he would reference something Jehan said, so Jehan knew his disinterest was a pretence. Combeferre had told him that he met Montparnasse while he was looking for the Romantic Poets part of the library. Jehan didn’t really know how to interpret that. He made both their favourite drinks during their lunch break. Jehan guessed that because he was making his own, he was concerned with social niceties and thought he ought to make Jehan’s drink and the fact that he knew Jehan’s favourite drink could be put down to his near photographic memory. There was no way Montparnasse could think of Jehan as a friend yet, he was far too aloof for that.   
But yes, Montparnasse was rather alright once you got to know him. But it was the getting to know him that was the hardest part. Jehan spent almost everyday with him and felt only slightly closer to him than when they’d met two months ago. Not that Jehan wanted to be much closer to him - he had a clear disdain for the Amis. They had a laugh at work, and he liked their discussions, but that was as far as it would go. Jehan would never be friends with someone who hated their best friends so obviously.   
It felt a bit like fraternising with the enemy. Even if Montparnasse wasn’t technically the enemy. Just someone who hated them and only hung out with Jehan because of forced proximity. 

Jehan was apparently thinking about this quite a lot.

 

A knock at the door startled them out of their thinking, and when they looked around, a large number of other people were shocked too. They were part way through a Cards Against Humanity game. 

Jehan looked at Enjolras, who was doing a quick count and tally of all the people in the room. It was only Grantaire and Eponine who were missing and they would never, ever knock. They often strolled in fashionably late with a cup of coffee each and collapsed into chairs dramatically. 

“Come in?” Enjolras put his cards face down on the table in front of him and leaned back in his chair to see who was coming in. 

The door opened slightly and Montparnasse curled round the door, staring at the people in front of him. His face was slightly grimy and his hair was sticking up wildly. 

“Hello.” He moved further into the room stiffly, like he was walking on coals. He was holding his right shoulder tightly under his leather jacket. “Ah. Eponine isn’t here yet. I have something to tell her.” 

“Yes.” Enjolras replied, looking understandably confused, “She and Grantaire were... waiting for you to come home? They said you were looking after the kids.” 

“Oh.” Montparnasse said. He scrunched up his face and tutted, looking around the room, a bit dazed, “I knew I’d forgotten something.” 

He hesitated for a moment, swaying slightly on the spot.

“I’ll wait for them here. It’s very important that I see them.” He walked forward, stumbling a bit. 

He gave his best White Person Smile as he dragged a chair nearer to him. 

Jehan stared at him. At his scruffy looking hair, at the awkward way he was holding himself, at a potential bruise on his face underneath the grime. Then finally at his left hand and the bloody imprint that it left on the back of the chair. 

“Montparnasse!” They said loudly. “Are you bleeding?!”

“Oh hello Jehan!” Montparnasse smiled at them as he sank into a chair. That was odd. Jehan didn’t think they’d ever seen Montparnasse smile that widely. 

“Yes! I am bleeding! I’ve been lightly stabbed!” Montparnasse broke into a cheesy grin. 

“Stabbed!” Joly shrieked, standing up so quickly that his chair toppled over.

“Lightly stabbed.” He correctly, pointing a finger at Joly. “It’s just a scratch. I’m far more concerned about the concussion!”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

People had started moving around Montparnasse, swearing violently. He couldn’t remember exactly where he was but he knew he was safe until Eponine and Grantaire got here. They had probably already left the flat by the time he needed them - bored of waiting for him - so he knew he had to make it to where they’d be next. It had made sense at the time, he was sure. 

But now he was struggling to remember the names of the people around him. He could normally remember things like that. But they were just too blurry for that. How on earth had he made it there, when he had so quickly weakened around them? 

He hadn’t had a concussion in years. He needed to have his head smashed against a brick wall more often, then he’d build up an immunity to it. Like with vaccinations. That was definitely how it worked. 

“Terribly out of practice with the ol’ concussions.” he shrugged dopily, “Who are you?” 

He was slurring his words now. People were hovering in his personal space which he didn’t like one bit. 

The person in front of him already had blurry blue medical gloves on. Was he in hospital? How had he got there so quickly?

“I’m Joly.” the person replied. Yes, Montparnasse knew that. Hadn’t Joly just shouted? Why had he shouted?

He was reaching out to touch Montparnasse’s ruined jacket, no doubt to peel it away, to look at his arm. That had happened to Montparnasse before when he was younger. Let me have a look at your poorly shoulder. The man had said, if Montparnasse remembered correctly. And everyone knew that Montparnasse always remembered correctly. 

His hand shot up and he slammed Joly’s hand down on the table. 

“Don’t touch me.” He warned him icily.

“But-” Joly tried to argue and reach out for Montparnasse again but his hand was slapped away by a bloody one. 

“I said don’t touch me,” Montparnasse was feeling more woozy by the second, and unwanted hands were about to reach out again. 

“Is that really necessary?”Joly pursed his lips apparently not scared in the slightly. 

“Piss off. I’ve told you before that I don’t like people touching me.” Montparnasse tried to sound threatening. 

“I’m afraid I can’t piss off. I need to check the wound on your arm. I think it’s mostly superficial, and it’s the concussion that making you...like this.” Montparnasse slapped his hand away again. 

“Monty, for fuck’s sake, just let Joly help you.” Montparnasse knew that voice too. He searched for it in his foggy vision. 

“Feu? Why are you here?”

He could hear words but they were surely in a different language. It was like how he used to put his head underwater in the bath when he was younger, and listen to the pipes groaning until the water pushed on his chest almost painfully and he had to come up for air. He had always wondered what the pipes were saying to one another. What was so important that the pipes wouldn’t tell him? 

But he recognised Feuilly’s voice. Fear gripped him and he knew, deep deep down that Feu should not be here. 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” Feuilly sounded annoyed. 

“But I got you out.” Montparnasse tried to speak but he couldn’t hear the words, his mouth was cotton wool. He choked on his words, unable to think about what he wanted and what he needed to say. He focused on the people who could bring him back from where he was. They couldn’t protect him, like he always protected them but they could anchor him. They could bring him back from whatever this was. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes before releasing a steady stream of words. 

“Where’s Eponine? I need Eponine. I need Grantaire. Where are they? Where are they?”   
He continued until he was too numb to panic, and too tired to keep his eyes open.


	8. when you want to live, how'd you start, where'd you go, who'd you need to know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montparnasse realises he should probably open up a bit.  
> chapter title from The Smiths - The Boy With a Thorn in His Side  
> please like and comment!! let me know what you want to see in the story!!

When Montparnasse woke, he had that same cotton wool feeling in his head as in his mouth. Everything tasted like shit and he felt fuzzy all over. He battled with himself to open his eyes but dared not move except to look around the room. He lifted his head. Shapes and colours and light merged to form his and Eponine’s bedroom. 

He stared at Eponine sitting in a chair, reading a book. 

“Eponine.” his voice was croaky with disuse and he coughed. 

Her head snapped up and she dropped her book quickly, getting up to move over to him. She didn’t touch him. He was grateful, as he wouldn’t be able to flinch away if she had. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked him. 

“Odd.” he replied, frowning. 

“Well, you do have some painkillers in your system. You had a concussion and you were stabbed last night.” 

Montparnasse nodded slightly.

“Lightly stabbed, yes, I remember now.” 

She hesitated.

“You spoke a lot while Joly stitched you up. I don’t think painkillers are good for you.” 

“I said something bad.” He guessed. 

“You thought you were back at the kids home. But you thought Feuilly shouldn’t be there. Grantaire and I arrived before you could say anything really damning.”

“Yeah, that figures.” Montparnasse searched his hazy memories and could almost remember Eponine and Grantaire running somehow in slow-motion into the room, yelling at people, pushing past them to get to Montparnasse. 

“He’s in the living room if you wanna talk now.” Eponine gestured over her shoulder. 

Montparnasse was about to agree, although the thought of a conversation with Feuilly while he was essentially bedridden was not a nice one. Then he vaguely considered something Valjean had said to him. He didn’t technically owe Feuilly a discussion right now. As long as he wasn’t hurting anyone, he didn’t have to talk to him yet. The conversation would surely go better when he wasn’t bedridden.

“Actually. I...er... I don’t really want to. I’d rather wait until I’m alright again if that’s ok?”

Eponine looked shocked briefly. Montparnasse was about to justify himself a bit more but then he realised his mistake. He had asked her a question directly. Something he generally avoided - it took away from the validity of his reputation if he was constantly asking questions. He needed to instead be showing people how confident he was in himself, in his actions, and in what was happening around him. Questions were weakness. Within reason. Consent is sexy etc. 

Regardless, the old Montparnasse would never ask Eponine if something as mundane as not talking to Feuilly was ok - he would never have been that unsure of himself. Eponine knew that. 

She recovered quickly. 

“Yeah, of course it’s ok. That makes sense. I can send him away. But Montparnasse, please make a deal with me right now. Either tell me and Grantaire where you went for the past few years, or you tell me your worries concerning Feuilly. Your choice. But it’s one or the other. I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and it’s all making you distracted and I can’t have you doing stupid shit like letting your guard down during fights. You mean too much to me for that.”

She waited until he grudgingly nodded then left his side and closed the door to the bedroom behind her. 

Montparnasse closed his eyes and wondered how these things happened to him. 

Then he remembered it was his own stupidity. Every single time. 

“I think it’s sensible that you don’t talk to Feuilly yet.” 

Montparnasse nearly shat the bed in shock. 

Since when had Joly been in the room?! 

Joly had smiled when Montparnasse jumped 5 foot in the air. Now he continued.

“I don’t think he’s actually ready to hear what you have to say, no matter how much he says he is.” 

“What exactly do you think I’m going to tell him?” Montparnasse snapped, annoyed at himself for losing his composure.

“I’ve got no idea, Montparnasse. But if it’s something bad related to Feuilly’s childhood, he won’t accept it until he’s on good terms with you. When you’re still not on speaking terms, he won’t actually hear anything you have to say. Like he’ll listen but he won’t believe it. If that makes sense.”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Montparnasse admitted. 

“Now.” Joly approached the side of the bed, doctor mode activated, “How would you rate your pain currently?” 

“Zero stars. Would not recommend.” Montparnasse replied. 

Joly stared at him, his lips pursed, before breaking into a smirk.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” Montparnasse waved his hand at Joly, “I feel miles better. Like I could honestly get up right now.” 

“Hmm. I don’t doubt that. You’re very persistent. But I’m strongly advising you to rest for the next few days. You’re not confined to bed, but you’re taking time off work. Normally difficulty staying awake and problems with balance and speaking and comprehension would be cause to go to hospital but I’m almost certain it’s the concussion mixed with general exhaustion. But just to be sure, Grantaire has agreed to take the next few days off work so you can be monitored for 48 hours. It’s Saturday evening now, you slept for the whole day, but Eponine was under the impression that you needed it. But you’re taking Monday off work. Jehan’s already sorted it.”

Montparnasse swore under his breath and rolled his eyes at Joly. They sure were going to a lot of effort to make sure he didn’t keel over on them. And he didn’t appreciate the subtle dig about Jehan. 

“Yes.” Joly continued, looking up from Eponine’s reporter’s notebook where he’d written his notes, “We know you work with Jehan. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t?”

“I hardly think it’s first page news.” 

“Oh please.” Joly rolled his eyes, “You’re the most exciting thing that’s happened to the Amis since Enjolras dyed his hair ginger by accident!”

Montparnasse honest to god laughed. He didn’t even know it was happening until he heard it, until the small huff of laughter escaped him. Joly grinned at him, looking ever so smug. 

“Thank you for helping me.” Montparnasse blurted out. 

“It’s no problem. You were quite feisty last night but I like a challenge.”

“I’m sorry. I swear I came to you guys because it would be safe. I don’t know why I was acting like that.” 

Joly quirked his head to the side and smiled kindly at Montparnasse. 

“I’m sorry for the circumstances but I’m glad that you knew you could come to us.”

At that point, Grantaire and Eponine came back into the room and Joly exchanged a look with them and then smiled again at Montparnasse. Montparnasse heaved himself into a sitting position.

“I’ll leave you guys to talk.” Joly said, flipping the notebook and walking to the door, “I’ll put the TV on in the other room and stop the others listening at the door.”

Eponine thanked him. She watched him leave and close the door then handed Montparnasse a bowl of lumpy-looking soup with the instruction to eat it or she’d stab him. He quickly got to work. He was surprisingly hungry and the soup was making him feel a million times better. 

Things were starting to get put in perspective. He wouldn’t have died yesterday, obviously, but it was reminding him how fragile life was, and how he was keeping so much from them.   
At that moment in time, after Joly had helped him with no promise of a reward, he couldn’t think of a single reason why he wanted to avoid the Amis apart from their association with Feuilly. Surely, he could be better acquainted with the Amis and just put better boundaries in place. It was easier than he originally let himself believe. He supposed he was afraid to let them into his life but he didn’t really know why. 

Most importantly, he was ready to tell Grantaire and Eponine some truths. They had been his constant friends for years and he couldn’t ask for anyone better, for anyone who understood him on a deeper level. They deserved to be trusted. 

“You went to the Amis for help? When you couldn’t reach us?” Eponine blurted out.

“Yeah.” Montparnasse put his empty bowl on the side. “It’s been harder to avoid your friends than I’d hoped.”

He paused, thinking about whether he wanted them to know he worked with Jehan. No, he would save that for another day. Now wasn’t the time for that. He wasn’t quite sure why, so he put a pin in that thought to revisit at a later date.

“I had dinner with Cosette and Valjean.” The words burst out of him suddenly.

Eponine’s eyes widened. She was openly gawking at him. 

“How on earth did that happen?” 

“I honestly don’t understand it myself. She dropped her purse. I gave it back. Then suddenly I’m eating pie and talking about my childhood.” 

“God, yeah, Valjean has that effect on people.”

“I fixed Courfeyrac’s car. I was the one who found Freddie Mercury the Cat and her kittens and gave them back to Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. Do you really abbreviate them all to JBM?” Montparnasse blurted out in one go, and Ep and R nodded at him, looking confused. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. Your friends are everywhere I go, and I keep accidentally doing nice things for them. Also, Musichetta promised me a kitten. I get photos of them everyday - look!” He held out his phone and show flicked through nearly two month’s worth of cat photos. 

Eponine stared at him, mouth hanging open. Grantaire was not in a better state, he reached out for his phone.

“Fucking hell.” He whispered, flicking through photos of cats, “I knew about the dinner. But how did all the other stuff happen? Oh...my god this kitten is wearing a hat, look Eponine.” 

“Grantaire, focus!” She snatched the phone from him and put it on the side table. Grantaire pouted at her.

“I’ll look later!” she snapped at him, gesturing at Montparnasse. 

“So you didn’t put the Amis up to this?” Montparnasse asked.

“No way?” Eponine looked offended that he’d suggest that, “We told them to leave you the hell alone, actually. Clearly they’ve got a death wish and are next-level stalkers.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Montparnasse muttered, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. He realised he’d been biting it. 

Eponine and Grantaire didn’t say anything more. He felt very odd still sitting in his bed, with them in chairs next to him, just staring. It was quite off-putting, especially when he hadn’t even had a chance to think about what he wanted to say yet. How much would he even tell them? What would they want to know? He took a deep breath and began.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was going to leave. It was a really rash decision and it felt like too personal a thing at the time. I couldn’t stand the thought of coming back empty-handed and being pitied by you. I also didn’t realise it would take as long as it did. I honestly thought I’d be back before you missed me.”

Eponine and Grantaire had seemed shocked when he suddenly started talking but they weren’t about to stop him. He paused so they could ask questions. Maybe it would be easier if they gave him an opening.

“You went to find your parents right?” Grantaire asked, “What happened? Like something went wrong?”

“Yeah.” Montparnasse began, “I had no idea who they were, so I knew I needed to find my records. And I knew my original records were still in my old children’s home - the one with Feuilly. So I broke in. I took the records and went outside the building to this little alleyway between the home and the next house. Anyway, my parents died in 1999. I was never told. I looked them up quickly, and it turns out they both died in prison. What a legacy, you know? Everything just sort of changed in that moment, I swear. I realised that I want to be more than this,” He gestured at himself, “I want to create something in my life, I want to help people or have a legacy or something. It sounds ridiculous, I know.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Eponine interrupted his rambling. “I’m sorry that that’s what it took but it sounds wonderful, Montparnasse.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because to kick everything off, I closed the care home down. The one Feuilly and I went to.” 

“What?” they both stared at him, confused as to how it was relevant. 

Montparnasse took a breath, refusing to look at them. He hadn’t had a chance to organise his thoughts so he let it just tumble out of him. He took them back to the alleyway, where he was reading his notes, where he found out about his parents. Turning round, seeing a child. Crying. One tiny conversation with the child confirming his suspicions. He wasn’t saying anything else about that though. He explained how he looked at the kid, how he held him tightly as he cried. The split second decision to actually do something. But something good, something right. To be the person that he needed when he was younger.   
Montparnasse leaned back further into the pillows that held him up. He lifted his arms and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He continued.   
He had called the police. There was a trial. He stayed with the children. By the time he realised how long it would take, it was too late to call and explain. And the chances of Eponine and Grantaire understanding what was happening at the time, they were too low for Montparnasse to try. He explained how everything had been on a knife’s edge for those few years. But finally, finally sentences were decided and the place was shut down. And then he came home. To the people who could help put him back together. But some part of him had changed irreversibly, a part of him that grudgingly realised his capacity to do good. Even if it was years too late. 

That brings him back to the present. He took his hands from his eyes at some point and he now looked at Eponine and Grantaire. Grantaire was leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, his head resting in his hands, staring at him. Eponine was slouching forward, almost mirroring Grantaire, but her head wasn’t in her hands, her arms were relaxed on her legs. They were still breaking down everything he had said. Montparnasse already knew the points they were stuck on - the weird kind of grief for people you could have known, the fact that Montparnasse had wanted to find his parents, despite never expressing such a wish, the child at the home, and the question that would bug them for weeks or months or years - what was actually happening there? They probably had their own thoughts about that. Maybe they were bang on the money, given how well they knew him. 

Montparnasse couldn’t bring himself to tell them now, maybe he’d never tell them. Maybe one day they would guess and he could just nod or shake his head. But today wasn’t that day. He decided to change the subject slightly, from that nagging question in the forefront of their minds. 

“I don’t know how much Feuilly knows. I think he doesn’t even know it’s closed down, let alone why and let alone that I had a hand in it. The uncertainty scares me. There’s a lot of unspoken things there. That’s why I don’t want to talk to him.” 

He took a steadying breath. 

“I could have been adopted before him, but I made the family choose him instead because of a promise he made me make. He doesn’t know about that either.” 

“Oh, Montparnasse.” Eponine whispered. 

He smiled weakly at her. She looked like she might cry. He definitely didn’t want that. That wasn’t the point of his opening up to them. 

“You were right about your capacity for good.” She said gently. “You surprise me everyday.” 

“I’m sorry about the Amis and how I treated them at first.” He replied, “You were right ages ago when you said I was scared of being vulnerable. It took forever to let you guys in, and being an adult involves so much communication, which I’ve never been very good at. You guys know the rules, you know how to exist around me.” 

Montparnasse didn’t really know how to continue or explain, but they nodded. Grantaire looked at him earnestly. 

“They’re quick learners.” He said, “You can tell them however much or little you want and they’ll learn how you work quickly enough. That’s the kind of shit that they’re made for.”

Eponine reached out for his hand hesitantly, he nodded at her and she took his hand in his and squeezed gently, careful of his bruises. 

“Thank you so much for talking to us. I’m sorry for pushing you. We’ve just been so worried, and you being stabbed was kind of the final straw for me. If you ever want to talk about anything else, we’re here for you, no matter what it is.”

“I know that. I apologise for all of this.” He gestured vaguely round himself, “It must have been a lot to put up with. I’m going to be more open I think. But it might take time.”

“It’s ok. These things take time. But also, we’re never ‘putting up’ with you. We love you so much. We call you out when you’re being an asshole but that’s not really what’s been happening here. We misjudged you, so we’re also sorry.” 

“I think we’re going to keep going round in circles apologising so I’m going to stop it now.” He huffed at them, rolling his eyes, “I love you guys too.” 

 

\------------------------------------------------------

Grantaire and Eponine had stayed and talked with him for about half an hour before saying they were going to try and get some sort of dinner ready. They left so he could get changed.   
He pulled on a pair of black jeans and the well-worn Queen shirt that he basically lived in when he was in the flat. He was grateful for Grantaire’s penchant for wearing baggy t-shirt because it meant that even despite their massive height difference, the shirts still fit him. He didn’t want to aggravate the cut on his shoulder and his wardrobe consisted of a handful of beautiful button up shirts, precisely two tight-fitting t-shirts - one white and one black, and nice trousers. He was grateful for whatever t-shirts he could glean from Grantaire to relax in. If he didn’t technically own them, then he wasn’t sacrificing his style for the sake of relaxing. It definitely made sense. And it wasn’t like anyone would see him in his relaxing clothes. Whenever he had seen the Amis, he’d apparently always acted like a socially inept idiot, but he had always looked fucking phenomenal. He didn’t count the incident with Courfeyrac a few weeks ago. Although, he may not have been wearing trousers but boxers and a t-shirt was still a good look. 

Anyway, the Amis had gone home, so they wouldn’t see him. And he was beginning to not care if they did. He wasn’t a robot, he couldn’t be perfect all the time. And he had just been concussed and was meant to be resting. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair. He gave a cursory glance to the large bruises going from his forehead to his cheek then ignored them. He held his hair back from his face. He’d always tried to be neat with his hair, as part of his general look but recently he’d quite liked leaning towards slightly longer hair.   
At a certain length it started curling annoyingly at his ears and the nape of his neck so he had kept it short for years. He’d had long floppy hair when he was a child, and had hated how people automatically tried to stroke it at school or push it back from his eyes. That was when he cut his hair. 

Now he could just about stand Eponine and Grantaire ruffling his hair sometimes. Eponine had stroked his hair while he was incapacitated with a bad headache several years ago. That had been nice.

Montparnasse could sort of tell the route his thoughts were going to go, perhaps replacing Eponine with Jehan, perhaps about to wonder how their fingers would feel in his hair if he let it go curly. He nipped that thought in the bud before it even emerged fully formed. He’d been staring at himself for a while, hand pulling his fringe back, clenching subconsciously. He huffed, confused, and left the room. 

To his surprise, none of the Amis had left. 

They were all, in fact, gathered in the living room/kitchen area, and they were now all staring at him. Too many eyes to count were boring into his. He frowned at them. 

“Hello?” he couldn’t keep the questioning tone out of his voice, looking at Grantaire and Eponine. 

Grantaire shrugged. 

“Can’t fucking get rid of them. They’ve been here all day, the bastards.” 

“Montparnasse!” A blurry shape ran across the room and attached itself to him. Gavroche looked up at him, hugging around his stomach and laying his head on his chest. 

“Hey Gavroche.” Montparnasse reached out and patted his hair. 

“You didn’t die!” 

Montparnasse couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter. 

“No, I didn’t die. The Amis helped me and so I live to be terrorized by you another day.” 

Gavroche grinned at him, let go and grabbed his hand, leading him to the sofa. 

“Joly said you need to rest so sit down fucker!”

Montparnasse rolled his eyes but acquiesced. He sat down on the sofa, Azelma on one side of him and Gavroche on the other. 

“Thanks for the dinosaur pancakes yesterday.” Azelma smiled at him sweetly. 

Montparnasse glared at them. He heard a small giggle from across the room, near where Courfeyrac was hovering. 

No one else had really moved, all waiting for Montparnasse to address them directly. He might as well get it over with. He looked at the people who were in eyeshot - Cosette, Marius, Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta. The others were hanging in the kitchen. 

“Sorry for getting you involved yesterday and lashing out. It was a weird day. Thank you for helping me.”

Everyone exchanged multiple looks across the room and then they all spoke at the same time, telling him not to worry, expressing happiness that he was ok, asking if there was anything they could do. 

“You’ve already done enough.” He shrugged, “Thanks again.” 

Then Gavroche started babbling away and the moment was gone. Everyone relaxed. 

Montparnasse assumed that they would leave soon after that, but ten minutes had passed and no one had made any move to go. The opposite in fact. They all seemed to be making themselves comfortable in chairs or on the floor around the living room.   
After a few more minutes, Courfeyrac piped up. 

“Since we’re all here, do guys maybe want to order a takeaway and watch a movie?”   
Eponine and Grantaire shrugged. Montparnasse knew that their flat was a popular meeting place for the Amis because of the massive living room. They had been cutting back on having gatherings at the flat since Montparnasse came back. How was that fair to them? 

Eponine looked at him, eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere though.” 

Eponine shared a look with Grantaire, who was sitting next to Enjolras on the kitchen counter. They were apparently sharing a bowl of cheerios (without milk?!) between them. 

Montparnasse decided to file that away for later and subtly find out what Enjolras had been up to since the sunflower incident a few months ago. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Eponine paused the opening credits of the film. Montparnasse hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t even know what film they were watching, he was far too focused on getting pizza down his piehole. It was only the absence of sound that alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. 

Eponine was staring at him, so he paused with his pizza halfway to his mouth. 

“Will you stop getting involved in Patron Minette business soon?” She asked suddenly.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I stopped doing work for them over three years ago.” He took a bite of the pizza, wondering why she had chosen to bring it up now. He thought maybe it had to do with the half asleep kids on either side of him. She would never allow them to be put in danger again. 

“How’d you get stabbed then? If you weren’t doing business?” Grantaire asked. 

“Oh. Right. Some twats were beating up a little gay kid. I stepped in and I fought some of them then one guy took out a knife and I said, ‘what are you gonna do, stab me?’ and then it all went a bit downhill from there.” 

“Oh come ON!” Grantaire groaned, “Everyone knows that means fair play.” 

“Are you an actual idiot?” That was Eponine. 

“I was concussed by that point. It seemed like a good idea at the time!” 

“You’re a fucking liability, that’s what you are.” Eponine pointed at him with her pizza, “I’m never letting you leave the house again. Stop being a martyr!”

She apologised to everyone, and pressed play on the remote. Montparnasse let himself relax back into the sofa, only feeling slightly wary of the people around him. He went back to munching on his pizza. He felt eyes on him and looked directly at Jehan, who smiled back at him. There was something new in their expression that Montparnasse hadn’t seen before. He couldn’t place it.

He smiled back at them, even though it hurt the bruise on his cheek slightly.


	9. oh my life is changing everyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry for taking so long to update!! uni is tough and motivation is hard!
> 
> Montparnasse recuperates and decides to spend more time with the people he loves!  
> Title from the Cranberries - Dreams

Over the course of the evening, the majority of the Amis drifted off in dribs and drabs. Montparnasse had stayed glued to the sofa, with Azelma and Gavroche on either side, unable to pay attention to the film, but also unwilling to go back to bed after being asleep for so long, and unwilling to let himself nap in front of everyone.   
The last to go was Enjolras, who was engaging in some sort of flirtatious behaviour with Grantaire in the door of the flat, while Courfeyrac and Combeferre had given up waiting and were apparently in the car outside. Montparnasse made the mistake of making eye contact with Eponine while they both watched this weird interaction take place. She was staring at them with a bemused expression, then looked at Montparnasse with wide eyes, mouthing ‘what the fuck?!’ to him.   
He almost laughed aloud, but he schooled his expression when Enjolras looked at him, merely raising his eyebrow at him. Enjolras stuttered through whatever his next sentence to Grantaire, knowing that Montparnasse was staring at them both. Montparnasse enjoyed this kind of power that he had.   
Enjolras had excused himself shortly after, with a longing brush of his hand on Grantaire’s bicep. Grantaire had lingered at the door and then turned around slowly. He rubbed at his temples, frowning. 

“He’s killing me. He’s actually killing me.” Grantaire groaned and walked to his bedroom, shaking his head. 

Eponine stared at Montparnasse across the room in shock. 

“When are those stupid idiots going to get together? ‘He’s killing me’? They’re fucking killing us! Grantaire’s been pining for like 4 years, and now Enjolras has been like this for nearly a year now.” 

“It’s ridiculous.” Montparnasse agreed, “But I’m absolutely not getting involved.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Montparnasse did what Joly suggested and took a few days to recuperate. The cut was superficial but he didn’t want to try his luck with the concussion. Grantaire was true to his word and took the day off on Monday to look after him. A bit too true to his word.   
Once Montparnasse made the mistake of sitting on the sofa, Grantaire refused to let him up, hitting on the knees with a fly swatter everytime he so much as thought about standing up.   
He made him eat soup at lunch time. They watched hours of TV together. He made them smoothies. They had a debate from across the living room while Grantaire was chopping up fruit, about whether smoothies and soup were technically the same thing. It was halfway through the smoothie that Gavroche got home from school. 

He charged into the room, an endless ball of energy as always. He was swinging his bag over his head, nearly taking out a lightbulb as he went. He flung himself on the sofa dramatically. 

“Hello Gavroche.” Montparnasse mumbled between a sip of smoothie. 

“Hi yourself!” Gavroche grinned at him. Montparnasse narrowed his eyes, he could sense something sneaky in Gav’s eyes.

He flipped around on the sofa, so his head rested in his hands and his scuffed shoes were kicking behind him in the air. Montparnasse stared at him for a moment, before going back to his smoothie. 

“So Montparnasse” Montparnasse’s eyes snapped back up, “When were you going to tell us that you worked with Jehan?” Gavroche said sweetly, gazing up at him. 

Grantaire choked on his drink. Montparnasse glared at Gavroche, the bastard child. He decided to play it cool. 

“It’s hardly newsworthy. I didn’t even know they worked there until I had already started.” 

“Mmmhmm.” Gavroche raised an eyebrow, like he knew something that Montparnasse didn’t.

“Don’t bother telling Eponine.” Montparnasse tried not to blurt out, “She basically had an aneurysm when I let them stay to hang about yesterday. Imagine how insufferable she’ll be when she knows I work with one of them.”

Gavroche studied him for a few moments, reaching out to take a sip of Montparnasse’s own smoothie. 

“Alright. Seems fair. She’d be well annoying.” He stuck out a hand and shook Montparnasse’s.

Gavroche looked across at Grantaire, who had been watching their exchange while clearly trying to figure out how he’d missed this. He frowned at Gavroche who gestured at him. 

“Well? C’mon R, snitches get stitches.” 

“Er...yeah.” Grantaire cast a confused look between the two of them, “Yeah, I won’t tell either.”

Gavroche nodded and flopped about on the sofa again, apparently the matter was now solved. Montparnasse looked at Gavroche, who was now flicking through the TV channels. Eleven years old. He’d had a pretty shit childhood, but Montparnasse had tried to keep him from having a really awful one. He had assumed that Gavroche would be safe when he left - maybe that had been wishful thinking. Maybe the Thenardiers had assumed he was dead and wouldn’t be back to fuck them up if they took Gav back.   
But here Gavroche was, sharing a room with Azelma. A room filled with toys that Eponine had bought him. He liked to read, he liked to watch TV, he liked to play with his friends. But Montparnasse didn’t know what he liked to read, what his favourite TV shows were, who his friends at school were, if his favourite colour was still yellow, if he could still name more types of dinosaurs than were strictly necessary to know, if he still wanted a skateboard for every birthday despite Eponine saying that she didn’t have time to teach him and that he might just get hurt.   
Montparnasse looked at the TV. When he’d left, Gav was still watching kids shows after school, now he apparently had full access to Netflix and was watching a random new show Montparnasse had never heard of. He felt a strange bittersweet energy as he studied Gavroche, a strange melancholy feeling, seeing how much he’d grown, but also how little he really was. He felt suddenly determined to cherish these few years before Gavroche turned into a terrible teen. Azelma was a relatively pleasant 13 year old, but he knew that Gav would be a nightmare. According to Ep, he’d already been escorted from several protests - some that the Amis hadn’t even been attending. 

He was going to start making an effort. He was going to make up for all the time he’d missed. Even if they thought he was an absolute weirdo. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, Montparnasse’s life turned into this entirely new mish-mash of working with Jehan and spending every moment he wasn’t working with Gav and Azelma. They’d thought he was weird at first, not understanding this new Montparnasse who wasn’t doing something nice to get something from them. He’d had to awkwardly explain to Azelma that he had no ulterior motive for wanting to learn how to plait her hair in the morning before school. He taught them a bunch of card games, though he refused to let Gavroche learn how to play poker. They thrashed him at Scrabble while Grantaire offered him absolutely NO help. He helped them with maths homework after school. Grantaire let them all join him while painting - Montparnasse had never been as gifted as Grantaire. People say it’s just practice and more practice, and Montparnasse was definitely above average, but Grantaire was one of those people who just had an innate skill, an ability to understand complementary colours, to look at something across a room and draw the whole scene. But painting together was something they discovered they all enjoyed - finger painting, Jackson Polluck-esque stuff, or portraits of each other. It was definitely way better than homework. 

Montparnasse bought Gavroche a skateboard. He asked Eponine before, and said that he could coach Gav and keep him out of mischief. Eponine didn’t believe him at all, but she allowed it. Gavroche had hugged him tightly when Montparnasse presented him with the skateboard, then had promptly fallen off about ten minutes later. Montparnasse put dinosaur stickers on his knees then forced him to wear not just a helmet, but also knee and elbow pads, lest he himself he beaten round the head with the skateboard by Eponine. 

He was sitting on the sofa, wondering what to do with the kids that afternoon, when he got his daily picture of the kittens from Joly. Normally Montparnasse just looked at the photo briefly and then ignored it, which Joly couldn’t be annoyed about because he said right at the beginning that he’d never reply. But this photo had a message attached to it - the kittens were ready for adoption, and Montparnasse could come along any time to choose one. He heard the sound of the key in the door and the chatter of Gav and Azelma in the hallway and he made a decision. 

_Is now good?_ He replied to Joly. 

Gav and Azelma looked at him expectantly and he smiled at them. 

“We’re going to pick out a kitten.” 

\-----

“So let me get this straight.” Jehan began, while picking a small toy off a shelf and placing it into the basket that Montparnasse was carrying, “You took two kids to pick and name a kitten and now you’re surprised that you now have two kittens called Staniel and Dangerous Billy the Third”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Montparnasse smirked at them and they both laughed, continuing down the pet aisle. 

Eponine had been less than thrilled when they came home with two kittens, (Grantaire on the other hand had been ecstatic) and made Montparnasse promise to go out and buy more cat related things. He had told Jehan about it at work, and then found himself doing the shopping with them. Apparently Jehan knew a lot about cats and they insisted several times that Dangerous Billy the Third and Stanial would love them. 

“I just don’t understand ‘the Third’.” Montparnasse held up two tiny collars for Jehan to approve, then threw them in the basket, “Because there’s never been a first or second Dangerous Billy.” 

“That’s just kids’ humour isn’t it?” Multiple boxes of cat food went into the basket. Then some food bowls. 

Jehan was about to say something else when their phone buzzed. They looked quickly and smiled at Montparnasse. He immediately knew something potentially embarrassing had happened. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

“Nothing!” Jehan said, clearly looking at some photos and saving them to their phone. “Just, ha, just some photos of you and the kittens!” 

Jehan saved the last photo with entirely too gleeful an expression on their face. Montparnasse could have asked them to delete them, but something twisted in his stomach at the idea that Jehan actually wanted to save the photos. That no matter how stupid he looked, Jehan might look back at the photos from time to time. That was a nice thought. So he just smiled. 

“It was on our Amis chat. I can add you if you want?” 

Montparnasse balked at that idea. He shook his head quickly. They were walking to the checkout. He really didn’t like the idea of Feuilly having his number, 

“No, thank you. But I could have your number?” He paused awkwardly when he realised how that sounded, “Not… like that. But I don’t know. I’ve got Courf and Joly’s number and it might be nice to have yours, especially as we work together.”

Apparently Montparnasse had forgotten how to talk like a normal fucking person halfway through the sentence, but Jehan didn’t seem to mind. They held out their phone for Montparnasse to put his number in. He somehow got his fingers to work and remembered his number. He smiled at Jehan and felt like he ought to say more, felt a bit like the first night they’d met when he thought he could tell them anything. Then the cashier called him forward and the moment was gone. They went their separate ways outside the shop, with Montparnasse going home in one direction, and Jehan in the other.   
When he got through the door and started unpacking the stuff, he checked his phone. His most recent notification was right there - unknown number:

_Hey, it’s Jehan <3 _

Montparnasse shook his head and smiled at his phone, leaning against the counter to text back.


	10. think i was blind before i met you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> progress with Jehanparnasseeeeeee
> 
> title from first day of my life by bright eyes
> 
> enjoy and please comment and give kudos!! let me know what you want to see in the story!!

Montparnasse was in a pickle and a half. He had no idea what to do.   
He got on so well with Jehan. They had been hanging out more often during their lunch-breaks and it was doing something odd to Montparnasse. He really liked spending time with them, which was so different to when he first got the job and was vaguely ignoring them all the time.   
Now he looked forward to work.   
He looked forward to Jehan patiently teaching him something new, like when they taught him how to tie the ropes that hold the pots for hanging plants. At one point when correcting a small knot, their finger-tips had brushed his hand and Montparnasse had had to take a moment to breathe properly because it had tickled. That was all it was. Right? Jehan had looked at him with an odd expression, tender almost. Montparnasse was sure it was reflected in his face too. 

They had gone to get ice cream in their lunch break and Jehan had asked to try some of Montparnasse’s. He had relented. Jehan got some mint choc chip on their nose and had collapsed into a fit of giggles when Montparnasse pointed it out. They took a selfie with Montparnasse in too. Montparnasse had found himself wishing he had filmed it, so he could play back Jehan’s giggles endlessly. Instead, he’d just have to make them laugh more. 

One day it was raining so they couldn’t go walking round town like they usually did but Jehan revealed that they had a travel scrabble set in their bag. They sat at a table in the break room and played for the whole hour. Montparnasse put up a good fight but eventually lost. Jehan’s smile was worth it. 

Then another day, Montparnasse surprised Jehan. He held out the neatly wrapped book that he had bought from Marius ages ago. The timing never seemed right to give it to Jehan but they had been getting on so well, Montparnasse knew it was time. Jehan’s face lit up, doubly so when they realised it was a second hand book, with scribbles inside.   
“Where did you get it?” They were perched on the coffee counter, cradling the book, touching the notes softly.  
“Marius’ bookshop. About 2 weeks after I met you. The notes are mine, sorry.” 

Montparnasse was gazing down at book in Jehan’s lap. He was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. He was practically in between Jehan’s legs. He looked up at them to find that they were already staring openly at him. Their lips were slightly parted, their eyes were sparkling. Montparnasse leaned down slightly and then thought better of it, not really knowing what he wanted. He coughed awkwardly and stepped back. 

“So yeah. I hope you enjoy it. There’s loads of things I’d love to discuss.” 

Jehan stared at him intently and then grinned, hopping down from the counter. 

“It’s brilliant, thank you so much.” They said earnestly. 

When they always go their separate ways at the end of work and Montparnasse always finds himself looking back as Jehan walks away. Somedays he felt like he should offer to walk Jehan home because town can be dangerous in the evening but he assumed Jehan would just ask if they wanted that. But that day, after he gave Jehan the book, he knew he should ask. Anything to prolong saying goodbye to them. He needed to see that earnest look on their face again. 

“Can I walk you home?” He asked suddenly as Jehan was putting on their coat. They smiled at him and nodded. 

They walked out of the door and turned right up the street. Montparnasse was very aware that he was so incredibly close to Jehan right now. 

“I live with Marius by the way!” Jehan was explaining their flat excitedly, “It’s very haphazard, there’s books and plants everywhere, as you can probably imagine.”

“I’m sure it looks artistic. Our flat literally has two kittens, two children and Grantaire, so me and Ep have you beat.” 

“Sometimes a family is two kittens, two children and an adorable manchild.”

Montparnasse laughed. 

“Sometimes a family is a massive group of ex-student activists.” He countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Ooh, touche.” 

They walked and talked for five more minutes. They stood next to each other in the elevator, staring straight ahead. Montparnasse felt like he was reaching a milestone here, but he didn’t now what it meant. His brain was lagging about ten miles behind the rest of his body and his heart so he hadn’t quite caught up with what he was feeling or doing. 

They arrived at Jehan’s doorway.   
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea!” Jehan asked happily. 

Montparnasse looked down at them and in that brief moment had a flashback to every single time he’d ever interacted with Jehan. The night they first met, the light dancing in their eyes, the look on their face when he had pushed Feuilly away from him, that ridiculous outfit and every single one following, meeting them on the second day of work, talking with them, the way their hair curled perfectly, the way their eyes crinkled at the sides when they laughed, the way they would sing when arranging plants, the doodles they would leave on post it notes in books.   
And now, how they were hovering in the doorway, a smattering of freckles across their face, their long fingers fidgeting with the door keys, waiting patiently for Montparnasse to reply. Waiting for Montparnasse’s brain to catch up and understand the feeling he got in his stomach when Jehan laughed, spoke, smiled, looked in his direction. 

“Oh…” He breathed out softly. 

It all suddenly made sense now and he had no idea what to do. 

“I should go.” He whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you got home alright.” 

Jehan nodded. 

Montparnasse walked away and the feeling in his stomach moved to his heart and squeezed painfully. As soon as he got out of the apartment building he bolted, running nearly all the way home. He slowed down near their flat and caught his breath. Leaning against the front door, he took a breath and opened it slowly. He leaned back against it as it closed, squeezing his eyes closed.

“You’re back later than usual?” Eponine called from where she sat on the sofa with Grantaire. They stared at Montparnasse. “You alright?”

“Not really.” He replied, opening his eyes and walking to the empty chair half facing the sofa. 

He sat down with his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes and spoke through his fingers. 

“I think I’m in love with Jehan.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh.” Grantaire said, while Eponine’s noodles hung from her fork, half way between the takeaway box and her mouth. 

“Um... I swear you’ve met them like twice though.” Eponine frowned at him. 

“We work together. I’ve seen them almost every day for 3 months.” Montparnasse leant back in the chair. Eponine chucked her box onto the coffee table and stared at him. 

“What?” She threw her hands up, “You work in the flower shop cafe? You sell flowers?!” 

“Yeah. And now I’m in love with Jehan.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that in a second. I’m still hung up on the fact that you work together, I can’t even approach the other thing yet.” 

“I knew that you worked together,” Grantaire piped up, “But I had no idea you even liked them let alone...loved.” He shivered, as if repulsed. 

“How did you know?” Eponine turned to Grantaire, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Hey hey hey!” Grantaire held his hands up in surrender, “It’s not my fault, Gav made me promise not to tell. You can’t break a promise to a 12 year old!”

“How the fuck did Gav know?”

“Apparently Cosette told him. And apparently it’s common knowledge to the other Amis.”

“When?! Why didn’t she tell me?!”  
“Maybe if you weren’t avoiding her because of your crush, she’d feel like she could tell you.” Montparnasse said monotonously, still leaning back and staring at the ceiling. 

Eponine huffed incredulously. 

“Coming from you?” Grantaire drawled, “The guy in love with Jehan.” 

“My god, do you really want to open that can of worms, R? Really?” Montparnasse sat up to look at them properly. “Also I’m not avoiding Jehan. I’m literally doing the opposite. We work together, we talk everyday, it’s...nice.”

“Jesus fucking wept, are you on drugs?” Eponine laughed before leaning back on the sofa like Montparnasse had been doing in his chair moments before. “We’re so bad at love?”

“Sorry for not telling you guys. I didn’t even realise why I wanted to keep Jehan to myself until today when they invited me back to their place and -”

“I’m sorry, they invited you back to their place. Where they live?” Eponine sat up suddenly. 

“Yeah, they asked if I wanted a cup of tea and then I just sort of realised that I really really liked them, probably was in love with them and yeah, here we are.”

“Ok, now I’m confused.” Grantaire picked up a newspaper from the coffee table and started to roll it up nervously, “Jehan invited you into their home and yet here we all are...together. Meaning that specifically you Montparnasse, are not at Jehan’s after they invited you in.” 

“Yeah?”

“Well, why the fuck not?!” Grantaire threw the newspaper directly at Montparnasse’s head. He did not duck in time. 

“Hey!” He threw the newspaper back at Grantaire. “Cut me some slack. I realised how I felt and I wanted to tell you guys straight away!” 

“Oh godddd.” Eponine groaned with her head in her hands, “I don’t know if that’s adorable or so fucking dumb. Why are we such codependent losers?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Grantaire leaned on the arm of the sofa, cradling his chin in his hand. 

“It’s not that bad, is it? I just feel happy whenever I’m with Jehan.” 

Grantaire started fake crying and gestured dramatically to the floor. 

“Eponine, throw the fucking newspaper at him again, I can’t reach.” 

Eponine did not throw the newspaper, she just kicked him in the shin and reached forward for her noodles again. 

“Fuck this man. Montparnasse honestly I’m happy for you. I can’t get my head round it and I think it’s weird as hell but it’s the first time you’ve told us that you’ve been in love so that’s nice.”

“Oh, it’s the first time I’ve been in love. I haven’t really had the time before, and that’s why I didn’t really notice til now.” 

Eponine rolled her eyes while Grantaire started fake retching. She stabbed her fork in Grantaire’s direction. 

“He’s right, you know. That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. Please don’t say anything like that or I’ll vom on you.”


	11. please please please let me get what i want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while!!  
> title from the smiths song of the same name!!  
> some description of injuries and implied violence and homophobia and stuff!  
> please comment and give kudos!

Montparnasse was sitting on the roof of a building, on a picnic blanket, holding a capri sun in one hand and a poetry book in the other. He was not looking at either, instead concentrating on the way the setting sun illuminated Jehan’s face and hair. Their freckles stood out like constellations on their skin.  
Jehan had been undeterred by Montparnasse’s antics a few weeks ago and had been apparently determined to have them spend time together outside of work. Montparnasse had been trying (and according to Ep and R, failing) to not appear smitten. He didn’t know if Jehan had noticed, but anyone who looked at Montparnasse could tell.  
This was Montparnasse’s new favourite spot. Jehan had invited him into his flat again, and Montparnasse had agreed, although finding a place to sit down between the haphazard piles of books and plants was a task. Montparnasse assumed that it was a product of two people like Marius and Jehan choosing to live with each other. They had been sitting on the sofa for only a few moments when Jehan had gasped at the sun and ushered Montparnasse and their belongings up to the roof of their apartment building. 

“Did you hear about Enjolras and Grantaire?” Jehan asked, turning from the sunset to face Montparnasse. 

“You’re asking if I, the flatmate of Grantaire, knows that Enjolras, the love of his life, invited him to an art exhibit.” Montparnasse smirked and rolled his eyes, “I’ve heard nothing except that for the past few days.” 

Putting his book and drink down, he rifled through the breast pocket of his leather jacket and fished out two cigarettes. He offered one to Jehan who nodded. He lit Jehan’s and then his own, leaning back to watch them again. 

“Do you think it’ll work out between them?” He asked. 

“I hope so.” Jehan said, undeterred by the rarity of Montparnasse asking a question, “It’s been years in the making and they’ve both grown so much. I think they’re finally both emotionally ready for this.”

“That makes sense.” Montparnasse admitted, “I don’t want Enjolras to be an asshole though. If he takes advantage of the fact that R clearly thinks the world of him, I’ll kill him.” 

“I’d laugh at you, but we both know you’re not joking. Are you gonna have the big brother talk with him?” 

“What’s that?” 

“You basically say exactly what you just said, but while alone in a room and probably holding a knife.” 

“That sounds right up my alley actually. I assume your brother has done that for you.”

“Is that your unique way of asking if I have siblings?” Jehan smiled at him. 

“Maybe.”

Jehan laughed at him. 

“I’m an only child. You are too?”

Montparnasse took a moment too long to reply. Let Jehan take from that what they will. 

“Yes. That I know of.” 

Before the conversation could take a more sour turn towards Montparnasse’s backstory, Jehan changed the subject. 

“Your cigarette has gone out. Here. Let me.”  
Jehan leaned forward and moved their face close to Montparnasse, their cigarette held carefully between their teeth. While they used the end of their cigarette to light Montparnasse’s, he stared at their freckles until their whole face was blurry. Jehan leaned back first and Montparnasse coughed awkwardly. 

He looked at his phone for a second and frowned. He must have made some kind of noise because Jehan asked what was wrong. 

“I’ve got two missed calls. And a message from Gavroche telling me to come home.” 

“Oh, right, ok.” Jehan checked their phone. “Oh. I’ve got missed calls too. I’ve got a shit ton of texts too. I’ll just read them.” They started to pack away the stuff while trying to catch up on the message. 

“Something’s definitely happened.” 

They hurried downstairs to Jehan’s flat and dumped the stuff. At that point, Jehan paused and looked at Montparnasse with wide eyes - 

“I think something happened with Grantaire and Enjolras.” 

And they set off running. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, Montparnasse would have no memory of the journey to his flat. Jehan kept up beside him. When they approached the door to the flat, Montparnasse pointed to the small swipe of blood on the door frame. Jehan winced, catching their breath. It had not been an easy run. Montparnasse paused before he opened the door, preparing for the worst. 

The flat was crowded when they walked in. There was a hubbub that overwhelmed Montparnasse immediately, and they were clearly ignoring Joly’s stressed calls for them to shut up. The others noticed them come in and began to fall silent. Montparnasse was breathing heavily but that slowed to an icy stop when the others parted to make his view of Grantaire uninhibited. He sat on the sofa looking pissed off. Enjolras was next to him with an ice pack over his forehead, Joly appeared to be checking for lumps. Grantaire had an atrocious nosebleed that had leaked blood over his top and what looked like the beginning of two black eyes. Joly had wrapped his knuckles.  
Montparnasse stalked forward and the Amis had the good sense to move the hell out of his way. He knelt on the floor in front of Grantaire, his hands bracketed his face, not quite touching, before one hand gripped his chin and made him look directly at him.  
When he spoke, his voice was shaking with rage. 

“Who did this?” 

He had failed. His best friend had been injured while he was out frolicking and having fancy ideas about love. If he had been closer to Grantaire, if he had looked at his phone once that evening.  
His eyes were dark as he looked at Grantaire’s face. Whoever had hit him had been wearing at least one ring. 

“Some guys outside the art exhibit.” Enjolras said, before Grantaire could open his mouth. 

“I was not talking to you. And you will not talk to me until you learn to fight or run so he does not have to protect you.” Montparnasse spat at Enjolras before looking back to Grantaire, “Talk to me. Now.” 

“There were four of them. Seemingly normal homophobic bastards, but they knew my name but not Enjolras’. ” 

“That means school or Thenardier related.” 

Montparnasse stood up, shrugging his jacket off and dumping it on the back of the sofa as he moved across the sitting room to Grantaire’s room where he kept his clothes. He came out in a black top, a pair of gloves and absent-mindedly checking that his knuckle-duster still fit when Eponine spoke up. 

“Be careful.” 

He glared at her. 

“Fuck off.” 

He shrugged his jacket on and turned to Grantaire and let his beaten up face fuel his rage again. Montparnasse did not fail his friends. He only had two of them after all. 

“Stay here. I’ll come back when it’s dealt with.” 

“It’s really not worth it, Montparnasse.” 

“No one can think they can do these things to my family with no repercussions.” 

Montparnasse left. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------

Montparnasse arrived home in the early hours of the morning. The Amis were in a cuddle pile on the floor with blankets and duvets, while Enjolras and Grantaire had clearly nodded off next to each other, holding hands.  
Montparnasse walked to the sink, and washed his hands. There were some nasty bruises on his knuckles but, for once, that was it.  
The others were starting to wake up now he had come in and was making noise clambering onto a kitchen chair at the counter, looking at the rest of them. 

“Montparnasse…” Enjolras started to say sleepily. 

“Time’s up.” he tapped the watch on his wrist. “Stop talking.” 

Joly jumped up almost immediately. He had fallen asleep holding the first aid kit. 

“Are you ok?!” He tripped over Courfeyrac on his way over to stand with him. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you injured?!” Joly asked, unzipping the bag. 

“Not really.” 

“What happened to the men?” Feuilly asked, from his seat on the floor, looking pale and a bit disturbed. 

“All of them are at the police station.” A collective miniscule sigh of relief fluttered round the room when they realised they were not about to be implicated in a murder or two. 

Montparnasse looked at Eponine next, “The Thenardiers have been reminded that you are under my protection.” 

Montparnasse had forgotten what it was like to win a fight. He had forgotten that the world was ruthless and that he had to be efficient, focused even, to protect his friends. He reached out for the ice pack that Joly was offering him and secured it round his hand with a bandage. 

He flexed his other hand almost subconsciously and winced at the slight pain. He could still use them if he needed to but for now, best to stick to ice. He held his hand out to Joly. 

“Would you be able to -?” He didn’t bother to finish, just letting the end of the sentence hang in the air.  
Joly looked confused for a second then got to work, ever so carefully. Montparnasse stayed incredibly still, barely breathing while Joly did it. But it was an important step for him, and he could see Eponine staring at him in his periphery. She understood what was happening.  
“Thank you.” He said before getting up and squishing down on the sofa next to Grantaire. 

“Thank you as well.” Grantaire reached out and patted Montparnasse’s arm. “I really appreciate it.” 

“It’s not a problem.” Montparnasse replied easily. Another day he would apologise to Enjolras for losing his cool.

“Anything for your family, right?” Grantaire smiled.

Montparnasse glared. 

“Why don’t you tell us all about how your date went before you walked into some fists?” Montparnasse smiled sweetly, noting Enjolras’ blush. 

“Dude, it wasn’t a date.” Grantaire whisper-snapped back, “Enjolras just wanted to spend time with me as a friend.” 

There was a shocked silence. Montparnasse vaguely remembered a time he had said he definitely wouldn’t get involved in whatever mess Grantaire and Enjolras was. He decided to ignore that part of him and just dive right in. 

“Hold the fuck up. There’s some kind of misunderstanding happening here. It was definitely a date. You guys are in love with each other.” 

Another shocked silence. 

Grantaire swatted Montparnasse viciously in the chest. 

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m right though. Aren’t I, Enjolras?”

“Um, well, yes. I’m in love with Grantaire. Well, I love him.” Enjolras was finding his hands in his lap very interesting. 

Grantaire whipped round to look at him. 

“What?” He whispered. Montparnasse knew that tone of voice. That was disbelieving and hopeful. 

“I love you.” Enjolras said again, more confidently, then he faltered again, “I thought you did too, but if I’ve misunderstood then I’m very sorry.” 

“No, no. I love you too. Wow. I’ve loved you for years. Honestly.” 

Montparnasse looked around the room and grinned at Jehan. He gave them a thumbs up.  
He heard Combeferre mumble ‘fucking finally’ under his breath. 

“Can I kiss you?” Enjolras asked. 

“Oh dear, it’s time to go!” Montparnasse lurched forward off the sofa. 

 

The Amis jostled and bumped into each other violently in their haste to get out of the apartment. Montparnasse caught Jehan’s eye in the mele and there was a now familiar sparkle in their look that made him feel hopeful. But now was not the right time to think about that. Maybe in a few days.


	12. i wanna get better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of violence and a bit of fluff
> 
> title from the bleachers - i wanna get better  
> please leave comments and kudos!! thank you if you've made it this far!!

Since Montparnasse had deposited the men at the police station a week ago, he had felt on edge. He had been put slightly at ease by Cosette, who had invited him for dinner again. While there Valjean had subtly mentioned that he had a ‘contact’ in the police force who would help make sure the men got what they deserved, and more importantly, that Enjolras and Grantaire got justice. He was also over the moon about the fact that Enjolras and Grantaire were an item - apparently Grantaire had called him a few minutes after it became official to tell him the news. Montparnasse was happy for Grantaire, but less happy that Enjolras and the others were round the house more, getting in his way and in his space. JBM loved to come round to check on Staniel and Dangerous Billy the Third and both cats took a shine to Feuilly whenever he came round with the others. It annoyed Montparnasse greatly that Eponine had the biggest flat. Now they knew that Montparnasse allowed it, they were here constantly. He knew his circle of friends was expanding rapidly and while that was admittedly good, it was overwhelming. He and Feuilly still weren’t talking which made things awkward but he wasn’t about to open that can of worms any time soon. He could feel something building and it was worrying him - he’d rather focus on that than Feuilly.

While Montparnasse was at work, the Amis were at a protest. He hadn’t listened to the finer intricacies and details. He knew roughly where it was happening and when (during school hours so if Gav was there, he was sure to be yelled at by Eponine). He didn’t need to know much more than that - he had work anyway and was still not an official part of the group - even if he had no problem with them being in his house, he hadn’t gone to a real meeting since his first disastrous attempt.  
He got home that afternoon when the kids were back from school and followed Eponine’s instructions to stop them leaving the house by distracting them with food. They were half-way through dinner when he got a phone call from Eponine asking him to drive and pick them up from the Musain. 

“The protest got out of hand.” Eponine said. Montparnasse couldn’t be bothered to roll his eyes. 

“I can imagine.”

“Montparnasse, we’re really tired, can you please pick us up?”

“Sure. I’ll be there soon.” 

He hung up and left Gavroche and Azelma in front of the TV and prayed they didn’t wreak havoc while he was gone. He walked through the doors of the Musain and couldn’t see R and Ep in the throng of people. He recognised most of the Amis, in various states of muddy and bruised and tired - Joly was flitting around passing bottles of water, tissues and plasters to people. Montparnasse frowned when he noticed Feuilly sitting on a table holding an ice pack to his eyebrow, where he had a small cut and big bruise forming.  
For a moment, Montparnasse saw a small ginger kid sitting on his bed with a split lip. He blinked and adult Feuilly was back again. Feeling a pull in his gut and something that made his shoulders roll back and tense up, he walked over.  
Feuilly nodded slightly as Montparnasse reached him. 

“What happened?” He asked, gesturing half-heartedly at Feuilly. 

Feuilly looked confused that Montparnasse was talking to him and looked around him, presumably for Eponine or Grantaire. 

“I’m talking to you.” Montparnasse said, “What happened? Which police officer do I need to talk to?” 

Feuilly actually laughed at that. 

“This?” He scoffed again, “Nah man, don’t worry. This was Bahorel, not a police officer.” 

Montparnasse tensed again, his hands flexing at his side subconsciously. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, Bahorel hit me. It’s no biggie though. Shit like this happens all the time.” 

Montparnasse narrowed his eyes at Feuilly. He had clearly taught him nothing as a child. And Bahorel was clearly a stupid man if he thought he could hurt Feu under Montparnasse’s watch. He would soon be a dead man. 

“Hey man. I got you a fresh ice pack!” 

With that, the man of the hour had arrived and Montparnasse saw red. 

As Bahorel came towards them, Feuilly stood up to greet him. Montparnasse moved quickly. Quicker than the others had ever seen him move. In one seemingly fluid movement he shoved Feuilly back into the table and turned on Bahorel, pushing him back to disarm him. He delivered a hefty right hook to his face and with another shove, had him pinned up against the nearest wall with a knife at his collarbone. 

The shocked cries of the other Amis had drawn Eponine and Grantaire from the nearby room and while Montparnasse was getting his breath back, they came barging in. With loud shouts, they pushed the others out of the way and then stood close to him, but out of arm’s reach. Feuilly had moved forward too but Grantaire stood in front of him protectively. 

“Montparnasse, what’s happening? Please let go of him.” Eponine said on one side of him. 

Bahorel had hit Feuilly. That’s what had happened. 

“Baz, don’t move. I swear, don’t move.” Grantaire was pleading on the other side of him. 

“Do I look like I want to move?” Bahorel whispered, placing his hands flat against the wall. 

“Montparnasse. Please explain what’s happening before you do anything rash. You made me a promise.” 

Montparnasse gritted his teeth before swallowing his pride. 

“Feuilly’s takes precedence.” 

Feuilly made a small shocked noise. 

“What the fuck Montparnasse?” He whispered, pushing Grantaire so they could both come a little closer. 

Montparnasse wanted to look at Feuilly, to judge his expression but he didn’t want to take his eyes off Bahorel. He settled at looking at the space where Bahorel’s shoulder touched the wall, clearly listening to Feuilly. He held the knife still tightly at Bahorel’s collarbone. 

“Montparnasse, listen to me. It’s not like that. It’s not what you’re thinking.” He held his hands up in surrender, and out towards Montparnasse. 

“Monty. Look at me.” Feuilly took another step closer. 

Montparnasse’s jaw visibly clenched and he rolled his head round to look at Feuilly. 

“Do not call me that.” He snapped. 

“It was an accident. Bahorel didn’t mean to hit me. He just elbowed me in the protest. That’s it. That’s all that happened.” 

“An accident.” Montparnasse repeated, scrutinising Bahorel’s face before turning back. “You swear?” 

“Yes. Montparnasse, he would never - he would never hit me on purpose.” 

Montparnasse’s shoulders relaxed and he let the knife slowly come down and away from Bahorel. His other arm that was splayed across the man’s neck and shoulders still held him in place. He watched as Bahorel’s face morphed from a weird calm fear into confusion and then incredulity. 

“You think I’d hit him on purpose? What the fuck man?”

“It’s not like it’s unheard of.” Montparnasse scoffed and pushed Bahorel further into the wall as he took a step back towards Feuilly. He slipped his knife away and reached forward to hold Feuilly’s chin and roughly moved his head from side to side, surveying the damage with a keen eye. 

“An accident.” He confirmed again and Feuilly nodded before slapping his hand away lightly. 

“Idiot.” He snapped. 

“Dickhead.” Montparnasse replied sullenly. 

He turned back to Bahorel. 

“Sorry.” He said, honestly trying to sound sincere. Bahorel looked at him sceptically. Montparnasse gestured between the both of them, “This was a misunderstanding. It probably won’t happen again.” 

“Unless I start beating the crap out of my boyfriend?” Bahorel touched his face tenderly, raising an eyebrow at him. Somehow Joly had got to him already. 

Montparnasse lurched forward again.

“Don’t.” He and Feuilly snapped at the same time. Montparnasse couldn’t tell if Feuilly was talking to him or Bahorel and he knew Feu didn’t know either. Feuilly had placed his hand on Montparnasse’s chest to stop him. 

They stared at each other. Montparnasse started to slump in defeat. A held breath had already been released from everyone else in the room. But Feuilly was ignoring everyone else and so Montparnasse would too. 

“You can’t ignore me and avoid me but still keep a deal we made when we were eight. It doesn’t make sense and it’s not fair. Either let me go or keep me. You can’t do both. And don’t drag the others into your fucked up life.” 

Harsh.  
But weirdly the most fitting thing any of them had ever said to him. 

“You dragged yourselves into my life. I asked you to leave me alone.” 

“Alright. But that’s on you, not me. I stayed away so don’t be a melodramatic dickhead. And don’t be a hypocrite.” 

Montparnasse scoffed. 

“You’re such an dick.” He whispered. But those words were filled with a million things that he wasn’t saying. 

“Newsflash, asshole, I’ve been a dickhead the entire goddamn time. Even when we were eight years old I was a selfish prick. Let go of the deal. I mean it. We’re not in that part of our lives anymore. I don’t need your undivided protection, I just want to be your friend. I don’t come before any of the other Amis and you certainly will not be merking them because of me.” 

Montparnasse stared at Feuilly for a few seconds before he huffed and removed his hand from his chest. He fished the car keys from his pocket and threw them at Grantaire, who barely caught them. 

“You can drive yourselves home.” 

The others made a path for him out of the door. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The same weird energy that had been following him for weeks emerged again on his way home from the Musain. He couldn’t shake it. His hand hurt from meeting Bahorel’s face and he couldn’t stop shaking his arms as he walked down the road. He let himself in when it was starting to get dark. Eponine and Grantaire hadn’t beaten him back yet. He probably wouldn’t have long before they got home. He walked into Gavroche and Azelma’s room to have someone to distract him before the inevitable fallout. Azelma was watching TV in the living room but Gav was in the bedroom. 

“Sup Montparnasse.” Gav peered at him over a book. He had his bedside lamp but wasn’t in his pyjamas yet. “Did you pick up R and Eponine? How was the protest?” 

“Protest was a bust. And not really. I gave Grantaire the car keys.” 

“How come?” 

“Got in a fight.”

Gavroche put the book down. 

“Sick!” He moved across the bed. Montparnasse was leaning against the doorframe. “With who?”

“Bahorel.” 

“Damnnnn! You went right for the beefiest guy. That’s wicked man!” Gav got up to give Montparnasse a high-five. 

“It was dumb, Gav. It was a misunderstanding and I lost my temper.” 

“Why?” 

“Thought he hit Feuilly.” 

“Baz would never hit Feuilly. You’re right. That was dumb.” 

“I know that now.” He took a deep breath and sighed, sitting next to where Gav was sitting on the bed again, “anyway, what are you reading you little nerd?” 

Gavroche held up the book for him to see. Montparnasse swallowed roughly. 

“Goosebumps. I remember them. I had that exact book when I was a kid.” 

“Really?” Gavroche looked at the front of the book again, “Feuilly gave me these a few years ago.” 

“That checks out. I gave him a whole bunch. We used to read them to each other every night.” 

All of a sudden, Montparnasse felt fucking weird. Gavroche was looking at him intently. Montparnasse was feeling numb again and his hands were itching for something to punch. He pushed himself off Gavroche’s bed abruptly. 

“Montparnasse?” Gavroche stood up. He wasn’t wearing socks, just a t-shirt and joggers. He could hurt himself if he trod on something. 

“I’ve got to go.” Montparnasse looked around the room. He was starting to breath a little funny. He pressed a hand against his chest before remembering that was where Feuilly had touched him earlier. He winced and let out a small whining noise. 

Gavroche reached out to touch him and Montparnasse lurched back. 

“No!” He snapped, before he tried to calm down a bit more. “No. I’ve got to go. Your sister and R will be back soon. Go to sleep or something.” 

He took a few shaky, staggering steps out of Gavroche’s reach and made a hasty retreat from the apartment. 

He walked around for a while, not really thinking. He only noticed how dark it was and how badly it was raining when he tried to open his phone, and water just slid right off. Before he really knew it, he was calling someone and trying to catch his breath while he waited for them to answer. He didn’t notice that they had for a while. 

“- you ok? Montparnasse, please answer me? Are you there? Are you alright?” 

“Uhhh. hey Jehan. Uh not really.” Montparnasse felt detached from himself and his words. “Can I come over please?” 

“Of course.” Jehan said quickly, “It’s raining outside so maybe drive over when Grantaire and Eponine get back. They just left.” 

“No, no it’s fine. I already left.” Montparnasse stared around at the shining lights of traffic lights and cars around him that were reflected in the rain. “I’m on my way. Thank you.” 

He hung up. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
When Eponine and Grantaire got home, Gavroche immediately came up to her. He was dressed in his pyjamas with a blanket around his shoulder. 

“I think I upset Montparnasse.” 

Eponine sighed and turned to Gavroche. Grantaire watched them from his seat at the kitchen counter. Ep put on her best parenting voice. 

“I’m sure you haven’t. Can you tell me what happened?” 

Gavroche shrugged and hugged the blanket around him a bit tighter. 

“I don’t know really. He came in and was talking to me about how he had a fight with Bahorel and then he asked what I was reading and I said Feuilly had given me a bunch of Goosebumps books and he said that they used to be his and he used to read them to Feuilly. And then he started being really weird and then he ran away.” 

Eponine wrapped her arms around Gav and pulled him into a hug. 

“Oh sweetie. You didn’t do anything wrong. The fight with him and Bahorel led to some words between him and Feuilly that no one really understood very well but it left everyone feeling a bit weird. It’s nothing to worry about.” 

“But what if he doesn’t come back?” Gavroche mumbled. 

“He will. Don’t worry. He’s probably just gone for a walk.” 

Gavroche seemed appeased and headed back to his room with a small nod. She shared a look with Grantaire as he walked away and took her phone out to text Montparnasse.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Montparnasse was completely soaked when he got to Jehan’s front door. He stood for a while at the doorstep just trying to calm his breathing. The rain had plastered his hair to his forehead and was dripping water into his mouth and down his chin. He couldn’t feel his hands when he knocked on the door.  
It was Marius who answered the door. He didn’t seem shocked to see Montparnasse himself, just confused by his general appearance. 

“Hey. Jehan said I could come over.” Montparnasse breathed, leaning against the doorframe with one hand. 

“Yes, of course, come in.” Marius held the door open for Montparnasse, and then stood a noticeably safe distance from him. “Can I get you anything?” 

“No, I’m alright, thank you.” Montparnasse said, despite the fact he was actively dripping on the floor. He was already starting to zone out. 

Jehan came into the main room from their bedroom and greeted Montparnasse. 

“Hi. Sorry.” Montparnasse said, feeling increasingly numb and not from the cold, “I didn’t know where to go.” 

Jehan hugged themself as they walked closer to Montparnasse, tilting their head. Marius took this as his cue to leave and made a few awkward noises and motioned to his bedroom, moving quickly. 

“Let’s get you some clothes, ok?” Jehan turned and gestured to a door further away. “You can wait in the bathroom and get changed.” 

Montparnasse sat on the edge of the bathtub. Jehan knocked when they came back with a bundle of clothes. They apologised as they handed him the clothes. 

“We’re both shorter than you but I’ve got a pair of Marius’ joggers and a t-shirt and jumper of mine.”

Montparnasse whispered a thank you and Jehan shut the door on the way out. Montparnasse did not lock it. 

The joggers just about fit and made ankle-grazers look well-fitted. The t-shirt was plain white but the jumper was on ugly knitted yellow roll-neck with a smiley face sun in the middle of it. He completed the look with a pair of thick socks. He walked back out into the living room where Jehan was sitting with two mugs. 

“Made you a hot chocolate. You don’t have to drink it. You can just hold it to warm up.” 

Montparnasse took it from their hands and sat down on the sofa. He rested the mug on his knees and curled his hands around it. He watched the liquid swirling beneath him. 

“What are you thinking?” Jehan asked softly. 

Montparnasse shook his head. 

“I’m not sure. I get in these moods sometimes. Ever since that Grantaire was beaten up I’ve been feeling like there’s another threat around the corner.”  
“Is that why you hit Bahorel today? You thought he was a threat?” 

“Well, yes. But it’s difficult. Because normally I wouldn’t have given a shit. But for one thing, it was Feuilly, and then it was like I wanted to have a fight with someone anyway.” 

“What did you used to do when you felt like this?” 

“I was still part of the Patron Minette back then. So I had more of an outlet for what I was feeling, I guess.” Montparnasse was struggling to form his thoughts and could feel a ramble coming on, “I know that’s a shit and toxic outlet, which is why I’m not doing it anymore, and I swear I’m trying, and I probably wouldn’t have done anything today if it hadn’t been Feuilly, and I left anyway and I went back and talked to Gavroche but then he reminded me that I used to read to Feuilly every night, those stupid Goosebumps books, and then I came here but I’m not going to hit you or Marius or anything like that.” 

Montparnasse took a breath and stared at his drink again. 

“I know you’re not.” Jehan said. “I trust you. I understand that it was a misunderstanding. Anyone who thinks they’re above shit like that is lying. I have no idea how any of us would react if someone in the Amis actually was abusive and sometimes I think the only difference between you and us is that you have knives and the ability to use them.”

Montparnasse scoffed. 

“I’m being serious.” Jehan put their mug down and stared at Montparnasse with their head cradled in their hands. “We can tell that you’re struggling. You know that we’re here whenever you need us and I’m so glad you came to us. Now do you have anything else you want to say before we watch a movie with Marius?” 

He wanted to say something, but it might not be what Jehan wanted to hear quite yet. And besides, he needed advice about Feuilly. He needed to fix all of this before it became a big problem. 

“Did you hear what Feuilly said today? About a deal?” He looked up and waited for Jehan to nod. “He was new to the home and one of the kids beat him up. We made a deal that we would stick together and be a family if I protected him from any kind of danger in the home. We were eight and he was probably just talking about the other kids, but also it’s such an open interpretation that you can’t help but wonder if he knew. Ughh what I’m trying to say is that I think he’s right that I should let that part of him go if I want to keep the person he is now but I don’t know how to do that.” 

“Ok.” Jehan grabbed their phone from the front pocket of their dungarees and carried on talking, while typing, “What you’ve got to remember is that you both have a very different support system than you had when you were eight. At that age, it was basically you and him against the world. But now, you’re not his first port of call in an emergency anymore and that’s ok. You both have enough friends to not have to rely on each other again. And then when you’re ready you can learn to be friends just because you want to be?” 

Montparnasse frowned, and then smiled at Jehan. 

“That actually makes sense?” He admitted. 

“Not just a pretty face, I’ll have you know.” Montparnasse blushed when Jehan flicked their hair and winked at him. “I’ve text you Feuilly’s number. You can choose when to message him.” 

They got up to go and get Marius. Montparnasse took his phone out and looked at the number that Jehan had sent him. He saved it and then sent a message to Eponine to confirm that he was safe and that he was with Jehan. 

\- JehANnnnn?? What are you doing there!!  
\- We’re going to watch a film. I’ll probably sleep on the couch. 

He turned his phone off, because Eponine would undoubtedly have a lot to say about that. 

“Just warning you,” Jehan returned with Marius in his pyjamas, “We’re watching Moana and Marius will sing along.” 

Montparnasse smirked at Marius, who blushed. They all settled on the couch and Montparnasse couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. He began to stop caring when Marius moved from whispering lyrics under his breath so full out belting them. He apparently tired himself out over the next hour and a half because he headed to bed after just one film. Jehan put on a few episodes of Always Sunny until they got sleepy. Out of the blue, Montparnasse was seized by something and blurted out - 

“Jehan?” 

“Mmm.” They replied sleepily from where they were snuggled into his chest. 

“I like you.” Montparnasse could have punched himself by now, it would have been less painful, “As in, I really like you.” 

Jehan awkwardly arose from their comfy position, elbowing Montparnasse in the ribs in the process. 

“You do?” They asked, rubbing at their eyes. 

“Yeah.” Montparnasse winced, “Would you...would you be interested in dating me?” 

Jehan smiled at him. 

“Yes. I’d be interested. I really like you too.” 

“Really?” Montparnasse leant back in shock, “Wow. Ok. That’s...well, that’s great.” He smiled back at Jehan. 

“Hey listen, obviously I’m not ready to like, do anything, but if you don’t want to sleep on the couch then we could share my bed and maybe cuddle. If you like that kind of thing.” 

Truthfully, Montparnasse wasn’t sure if he liked that sort of thing. But he couldn’t wait to try. As they moved to Jehan’s bedroom, he turned his phone back on and sent a quick text to Eponine. 

\- ok , maybe not sleeping on the couch after all. 

Then because he was a complete sap, he texted again just to say. 

\- Not doing anything the lord wouldn’t like. Just cuddling :)

He turned his phone off again. 

As he settled down next to Jehan, he couldn’t stop smiling. He saw that they couldn’t either. His last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were about how soft Jehan’s hair was and how he could feel some kind of change coming in the air. He liked that feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! please comment and give kudos if you want to!  
> also find me on tumblr as revolution-time


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